


Open Up Your Murder Eyes

by Laurasauras



Series: Temptations [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: "Enemies" to Lovers to Friends, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Imprisonment, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rimming, Roommates, Trans Male Character, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-01-15 21:53:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 86,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18507811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurasauras/pseuds/Laurasauras
Summary: It’s the middle of the night, and Dirk has gotten himself into a total mess. His habit of seeking out vampire sex has finally bitten him in the neck. Now his roommate, Hal, has to deal with his crap. He definitely doesn't want to be doing this. Not a bit. He doesn't evenlikeDirk.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Temple Grandin by AJJ (thank you, Dragon, for the rec!) and many thanks to my excellent RP partner for both writing this with me and giving me permission to ficcify it and share it. :)
> 
> With both this fic and the other one in the series (Dirk's POV of the exact same events), there's a few people reading who aren't about reading sex. I've tried to chuck ctrl-F friendly phrases that will allow those people to skip past the sex scenes in the end notes of applicable chapters. It's not about making it minor-friendly or anything, this is an explicit fic, but for those who want to use them I hope they're handy! If there's anything else I can do to make this more accessible, feel free to let me know in the comments.
> 
> EDIT: The story is starting to fork, which means that you'll get different information reading each side. If you're starting from the beginning, let me know how you choose to read it! Do you go all the way down one path and then the other? Do you alternate chapters? There's no right way! :)

You hear Dirk stumble through the door and roll your eyes to yourself. You don't move from your PC even though you know that as soon as he stops moving you'll be getting the mop bucket from under the sink, water and aspirin for him. This is because you're a fucking fantastic roommate and also you don't want him to throw up on the carpet and stink the place out. 

He's louder than usual, which has you taking your headphones off. Did he bring someone home with him who is equally as drunk/high? Neither of you do that, not out of any formal arrangement, but mostly because you'd mock the shit out of him and any partner he had and he'd probably be _polite_ to any partner you had. 

You hear a loud thump from the bathroom and the sound of the cabinet slamming open. Oh shit, there's no way he's just after his toothpaste, he's hurt himself. You don’t want to get involved, but there’s something about Dirk’s particular brand of self-destruction that has you reaching for cleaning containers and putting them in reach of his chunder-hole. You force yourself to walk calmly to the bathroom and flick on the light. 

There's blood. There's so much blood. He's holding his neck with one hand and has managed to get the disinfectant out, but you have no idea what his plan was from there. 

‘What have you done to yourself?’ you ask, even though it's clear. 

He's been coming back bitten for months now, and as much as you don't exactly approve, you also don't _care_. Except this is not the bite of a vampire having a small meal as a side dish to fucking, this is death or turning. 

You crouch down and take the bottle out of Dirk's hand. It's almost slick with his blood, which is just _everywhere_. You're discovering that you're actually okay with it. The smell is worse than the look, and you can cope with it anyway. Maybe modern media has corrupted you. Maybe you could go into medicine after all. 

‘Sit up,’ you tell him. You take your shirt off, because it's clean and absorbent and big, and press it to his neck. His skin is worryingly cold and his eyes are hooded and unfocused. 

He manages to sit himself up, painfully slowly, and you help him as much as you can, keeping the shirt in place. It’s already soaking through.

‘Sorry ... for getting blood all over the place,’ Dirk mumbles.

You're actually too worried to roll your eyes at the fact that of course Dirk is worried about the mess he's made rather than the fact that he is actually in very real danger of dying. But he's not going to die, because you won't let him.

You put Dirk's own hand on your shirt and push it until he gets the hint and holds it to his neck. It takes a few tries and it's not as much pressure as you'd like but you need your hands somewhat free. You assume. You actually have no idea what the fuck you're doing. 

You nearly ask Dirk, but he's clearly not doing so hot and the last time he spoke it took him way too long. You pull your phone out from your pocket, wipe your bloody thumbs off on your jeans and start to research. 

About two minutes into fucking about on your phone while your roommate bleeds to death, you realise that you're never going to be able to wade through all the anti-vampire sites and fiction in time. You drop your phone and put your hand back on the shirt, ignoring the disgusting squelching noise it makes as you put proper pressure back on it. Fuck, his eyes are closed.

‘How do I help you turn?’ you ask. He blinks blearily at you like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. ‘Dirk, help me out here, you stupid fang-bang groupie, tell me how the fuck I save you.’

‘How the hell am I supposed to know?’ he replies, his voice strained. He’s looking more and more awake, and his fingers are digging into your shirt so hard his knuckles are turning white. ‘I’m not some fuckin’ vampire expert. Just... try to keep me from bleeding out. Or call an ambulance.’

‘Half the websites say you _have_ to bleed out,’ you growl. ‘I don't _trust_ them, I don't trust the fucking ambulance either. They'll register you, your life will be over, I'm not …’

You break off, frustrated. You make a conscious effort to be gentler with him. It's not exactly your natural state where Dirk is concerned.

‘I'm going to think about this logically,’ you say. ‘I'm going to check your ... wound.’

‘My life is already fucking over either way,’ he slurs. ‘I end up getting registered and I’m fucked because everyone will know, or I _don’t_ and have to spend the rest of my life being a shady recluse so I can avoid the registration bullshit.’

Your shirt is nearly soaked with blood, but when you take it away it doesn't gush like you expected. You turn it over to a somewhat clean bit and try and wipe away the redness from Dirk's neck. It's barely bleeding at all, just letting out feeble spurts. You swallow, and pick his hand back up to feel his pulse. You can't feel it.

‘Or I die on the bathroom floor and my life is literally over,’ he grits out. He doesn’t sound woozy anymore, he sounds pained. 

You watch as he swallows and drops his hand. He’s starting to shake and he’s grimacing.

You look in his eyes, which have blown pupils and are kind of dazed but still very much alive and grab his other wrist. You can't feel it there, either. You grab his neck, incredibly disturbed by how easy it is to push him around when he's usually so uptight, and press down hard just under his jaw. His eyes are closed again, but this time he’s squeezing them shut like he’s in pain.

And then his hand is on your wrist, so fast you can’t even track it with your eyes. He’s holding you with a strength that would be a bit overboard for a completely healthy dude. You freeze, staring into his eyes like a goddamn deer.

‘I don’t think I should be around you,’ he murmurs, voice somehow steadier than it has been so far despite the fact that he sounds scared shitless.

‘Right,’ you say, trying to sound a lot more confident than you feel. ‘Well, I'm not going to let an amateur just chew on me trying to find a vein, assuming you even know how to do the …’ You make a fang out of your free pointer finger and hold it next to your face. ‘Give me my hand back,’ you say. ‘I'll cut it myself.’

He’s staring at your wrist in a way that makes you think he’ll figure out how to do the fang thing or tear through you trying. He slowly eases his hand off yours and tucks his hands under his armpits like he’s pinning them down. You shake your wrist out, not even to be pointy about how hard he was holding onto you.

‘Did you not hear what I just said? That’s probably the _last_ thing you need to do.’

His eyes don't look like his anymore, they're animalistic and shiny, you're not sure if it's because you know what his eyes look like so well or because you've watched the change happen but you hope that shit gets more subtle or he really won't be able to cover this up. 

‘I wish there was some way to be able to _give_ you just a certain amount," you say as you stand up. 

You start looking through the medicine cabinet until you find the straight edged razor you got Dirk just to be a dick for Christmas last year. You know, because he's pretentious and you wouldn't care if he killed himself trying to shave. One of your better passive aggressive gifts and it's actually going to be used for the first time.

‘You know, I always thought you had more self preservation than this, but evidently you’re determined to make whatever deathwish you have come true,’ he says behind you. You ignore him in favour of staring at the razor for way too long.’You do realize how stupid slicing your hand open is, right? Because it’s stupid as shit.’

You put the razor on the counter and consider using your belt to do the thing that they do when you go give blood, but you're pretty sure that's used to speed up the process and you're not sure you want that right now. You take a deep breath, cursing Dirk for actually seeming alert enough to see your dawdling now, and sit back next to him, holding the closed razor in your fist.

‘You can’t resist throwing a sprinkle of douchebag into everything you do, huh?’ he says, glaring at your choice of tool before looking away from you pointedly. ’You really shouldn’t do this. It’s possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had.’

You flick the razor open and closed a few times like there isn't any hurry. Like you're feeling very casual about this whole thing. 

You're going to make Dirk pay for your therapy bills even if your insurance covers them, just out of spite. Can't do that if he's dead. Or if you're dead, but people do this all the time. If anything, you're less likely to die than most people because you're smart enough not to let a guy who has no idea how his teeth or venom or any of it works just have at you, Nosferatu style. 

‘Yup, terrible idea,’ you agree. ‘Just so you know, I have a message on my computer that in the event of my disappearance or death they should question you and I also have told literally everyone I know that too. Kinda thought I'd just annoy you into stabbing me with that cheap piece of anime shit on your wall, but hey.’

‘So... you’ve told what, two or three people? Big fuckin’ whoop. And I’ve got more class than that. I would never ruin a perfectly good sword by introducing it to you.’

If you keep thinking about this, you're gonna end up doing something stupid like showing your emotions. So you hold your wrist out, clench your hand so your veins stick out, and choose a spot that does _not_ have an artery to cut.

Dirk grabs your left hand before you can make the cut, fingers curling around the handle of the razor with yours and keeping you still. He’s looking away like he can’t look at your wrist. It’s a pretty good indication that you’re on the right track, in your opinion. He wants this, he’s just being an idiot.

‘Seriously. I highly recommend that you reconsider what you’re doing here. I don’t want to do this, and I’m pretty fucking sure that you don’t either,’ he says.

You can't move the hand with the razor to make the cut when he's got you, he's annoyingly strong. Mind you, you have never done any physical activity that hasn't been forced on you, maybe you're just weak. You struggle against him for maybe a few seconds before you realise what an idiot you're being. You blame it on the stress.

You bring your wrist up to the razor instead and pull it along the edge, cutting into your skin before you can think about the fact that you're actually fighting someone for the right to injure yourself on their behalf and you don't even like him that much.

Again, Dirk's movements are far too quick to follow and even though you were expecting it, the violence with which he latches onto you has you actually, properly scared. That is before all your emotions are replaced with _ow_. Because it fucking hurts.

You wonder wildly why Dirk actively seeks this out for a moment before you realise that usually the vampire would bite him, would give him some of that addictive, pain-killing, aphrodisiacal venom and make it all feel fine, better than fine. You cut your own damn self.

You can feel the firmness of his teeth on your skin, still fangless, in contrast with the softness of his lips and the relentless sucking sensation. It feels like he's going to pull your skin away from your muscle, it's a thousand times worse than the most poorly delivered hickey you've received and you have no idea when it's going to stop. If it's going to stop.

You’re not going to make a noise. You grit your teeth and _do not make a noise._

It takes a long time before he’s finished. He drops your hand and it flops lifelessly almost all the way to his lap like you’d completely given up on holding it yourself before you pull it back towards you. He moves away and presses his back against the wall, turned very determinedly away from you. 

Your wrist is still bleeding, but it isn't that bad, you didn't cut that deep. There's a pretty ugly bruise all the way around it already and your skin is indented where his teeth pressed in. It _aches_. 

You pick up the antiseptic and dribble it over the whole area, not that you're entirely sure that will help, and wince at the sting. You're suddenly aware that the tears that come to your eyes at the burn of the antiseptic are not your first and are obscenely grateful that Dirk seems to be having his own personal moment which doesn't involve looking at you. You suppose if there's ever an excuse to cry in front of your roommate, it's this one. You're still not gonna let him see it if you can help it. 

You stand unsteadily and lurch to the medicine cabinet. You find bandages that you should have gotten out beforehand and a small cottony pad to place directly over your bite. You bite down a whimper too late at the pain of putting any kind of pressure on your wrist. It's so fucking tender. You wrap it up and tuck in the end of the bandage neatly. You should probably have washed all of Dirk's blood off you first, you're going to have to redo it sooner than you'd like. 

For now you just grab a flannel and get the blood (and tears, but you're pretending they don't exist) from your face and neck, then your hands. You rinse the cloth and throw it at Dirk before leaning against the counter to watch him. Be really fucking stupid of you to save his life only to have him go sticking his head in the oven because you didn't notice he was more fucked up than expected.

He’s shaking, you can see it from here, even though he’s got himself all bunched up, knees to his chest. He picks up the cloth lethargically and presses it to his neck. 

He looks freaked. You've been roommates for long enough that you know what him looking freaked looks like, and this is worse than just exam stress. Considering one of your most frequent sources of argument is the length of time he spends in the bathroom, from the absurdly long showers to the stupid primping he does to make his hair look absolutely stupid, it's kind of concerning that he's not insisting on using all the hot water right now. 

You're finding a comfortable way to clasp your hand behind your neck (because it's easier than holding your hand in the air and you want your wrist above heart height) when he speaks, much quieter than you’re used to and still staring at the floor.

‘... Are you okay?’

‘I'm fine,’ you say. Then you think about it properly. ‘Thirsty,’ you decide is more accurate, ‘and tired. Could use an aspirin. Pretty good for my first time.’ You'd wink, but honestly you can't be bothered making the effort. Inappropriate flirting gets on Dirk's nerves and is therefore always funny, but you're not feeling it tonight.

‘What about you?’ you ask, almost as if you're a polite person who cares about how other people feel.

He shrugs. He’s not even cleaning himself now, just idly picking at the cloth.

‘Contemplating sitting outside until the sun comes up or letting some anti-vampire group burn me at the stake.’

Someone who is not you could perhaps offer reassurance, maybe even a hug, but unless you're literally dragging him back from the sunlight you don't think you can work yourself up to that. You consider holding yourself back from sarcasm for about half a second before you decide that you've just got to act as normal as possible so that he doesn't think this is the end of the world. If you can get him to focus on something that isn't his own self loathing, even if it's how much he hates you, you'll count it as a success.

‘Well that'd be a waste of the blood donation,’ you say. ‘I've done my selfless deed for the year, I demand to be pampered. Make me a midnight snack.’

He doesn’t bite. He looks defeated. You are _not_ the right person to deal with this. He glances at you and his expression is so fucking sad before he looks away again. 

‘I never even wanted the damn donation in the first place, but you were like a fuckin’ toddler that found a knife. When someone attempts to physically stop you from offering yourself up as a walking blood bag, you should probably take the hint.’

He rolls the cloth up in his hand and makes a move to get to his feet, but it becomes very apparent very quickly that he’s still pretty fucked up, so he makes no progress whatsoever.

Well then, he's just completely no fun like this. If you take this any more seriously than your usual annoyance, you might slip into panic mode yourself, so you're just going to pretend like you're bored and he's working in the living room and is therefore free game to pester. With added looking after shit sprinkled on, which honestly isn't that different. When you piss him off he starts snacking, it's the weirdest association, but it's true. Not that it’s your business how often he eats. So whatever, you have a conscience.

‘Fine,’ you say with an exaggerated sigh. ‘I'll pamper my damn self.’

You turn to the tub and turn the tap on with your spare hand, keeping your maimed one gripping your neck and therefore above your heart. It actually isn't hurting as much as it should be, maybe he has venom in his saliva already to help you heal. 

There's no blood inside the bath, which is ridiculous because that would have been the easiest place to clean, but of course life isn't easy. You feel the temperature and look at Dirk's fancy bath shit contemplatively before you decide it probably isn't good for cuts and bite marks and leave it. 

‘You’re going to take a bath in the middle of the night,’ he says flatly, as if he has remotely normal bathing habits. You ignore him. ‘How’s your hand?’

‘Strangely fine, almost like the asshole that bit it has magic healing saliva or something. Feel free to lick it some more, though.’

You turn back to Dirk and crouch next to him. 

‘Work with me here, okay?’ you say before pulling his arm around your shoulders and starting to pull him up.

‘I don’t need help,’ he insists. He still grips your shoulder. 

It takes both of you a shameful amount of time to get Dirk standing, but it happens. You might be reconsidering your position as allergic to exercise. You know you won't actually do anything about it. You're just going to blame your weakness on the bloodloss, even though you know you wouldn't be able to exactly throw him around under normal circumstances either. 

You turn Dirk so his hands are on your shoulders and he's somewhat holding himself up so you can start trying to undress him. You manage to get his belt off before his stupid weak brain seems to realise what you're doing.

‘What are you doing?’ he asks. 

‘I'm sorry, did you want to get in with all your clothes still on?’ you say. 

The fact that you wouldn't hate to get Dirk's pants off under other circumstances is basically irrelevant tonight. He's not fun when he's not fighting you, all of the times you've entertained that idea have been along the same theme. If there isn't the risk of him punching you at literally any moment, you don't want to kiss him. Probably. 

The whole you being shirtless and taking off his pants might be challenging that opinion just a bit, but you're gonna just focus on the fact that he's covered in his own blood. Yup, that's not exactly sexy.

You push his pants off his ass, resisting the urge to cop a cheeky feel as you do it and ignoring the fact that the blood soaked through his pants and underwear and kinda made them stick together and cool, that's slightly more skin than you were expecting but the important thing is that his underpants are still technically on and his pants are halfway off and now you know Dirk's a natural blond and you're _way_ too cool to blush about this. Come on, blood, you haven't exactly got a bunch to spare right now.

‘You're going to have to stand somewhat on your own to get this shirt off,’ you say. Oh thank god, your voice still sounds as bored and vaguely snarky as it usually does.

‘Frankly, I think getting in fully dressed would be a lot less awkward than this,’ he says. He swallows and takes your hands off his shoulders, wavering a bit but managing to stay grounded. ‘I think I can handle stripping on my own. Unless you’ve got a thing for doing the most painstakingly awkward job of getting people out of their clothes.’

‘Maybe awkward stripping is my kink, you don't know me,’ you say defensively. You meet his eyes and smirk before putting your arm back around him. ‘You can take your shirt off in the bath, that makes more sense.’

‘You’ve got some shitty kinks. I can’t believe you’re unabashedly getting turned on to the near toxic amount of awkwardness in the air. How do you even get that kink?’

You help him into the bath and then hold your hand out for his shirt. You were actually thinking you could put all your clothes in the washing machine on a cold cycle and get the blood out but now you're wondering why the hell you care about a bunch of clothes and you're just gonna chuck them. You assume Dirk won't want the reminder of tonight anyway.

You look around the bathroom as you wait for Dirk to get settled and hand you his shirt. Most of the blood is on tile, you can leave that be until after you've rested even and it'll come off with bleach. You should probably get the shit off the walls though, which means you might as well clean the whole thing. 

You're not really _about_ cleaning. It's one of the advantages of living with the actual personification of neurosis, the place is always clean, you just have to look after your room and occasionally take charge on the eating side of things. But considering you haven't even once cleaned the bathroom in the time you've lived here, you can probably do it now. After all, if he'd died in the bathroom you would have had to do it.

‘Thanks for, you know, helping me out with this mess.’

You take his shirt and pick up yours and his pants as well. They're actually dripping with blood. That's ... sure something. You blame watching horror movies too young for how this doesn't seem to bother you.

‘I'm not doing it for _you_ ,’ you say. 

You wrack your brain for another reason you could possibly have for doing this than actually kind of caring about Dirk. If you were being honest with yourself (and him for that matter), you'd be forced to admit that he's the person you see most and end up talking to most, of course he's your closest friend. You just aren't at all interested in being honest with anybody.

‘It'd be a real pain to have to deal with your dead body,’ you mutter, well aware that you sound insincere. Hopefully his overactive self loathing will cover for your brief softness.

You take the clothes out of the bathroom to put in the bin, holding them close to your chest to avoid getting the blood all over the rest of the house. You decide to leave him to have at least a couple of minutes of privacy while you clean up the trail of blood he left. Oh damn, it's actually all the way out the door. Ugh. He's gonna owe you so much for this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It might still _look_ like Hal's looking after Dirk, but he has a reason. Shut up is why. (Let's add some "there was only one bed" to this wonderfully tropey story.)

Your wrist is quickly becoming the least of your problems. The hallway outside your apartment is _carpeted_. Thankfully it looks like most of Dirk's blood is splashed around the bathroom, but there's still a pretty big mess, especially right at your front door where he must have been struggling with his keys and keeping his hand on his neck.

You get a bucket of soapy water and some spray stuff that has the word “carpet” on it and read the back of it while you clean the blood off Dirk's keys which were still in the lock. You're lucky no one came by and decided to rob the place. You're lucky no one saw all the blood and called the cops. 

The thing says it works better if you let it sit, so you spray the shit out of all the carpet you can and start to work on your own hallway. At least the handprints on the walls come off easy, you won't need to repaint. 

You do a rushed job, needing to empty and refill your water bucket several times and getting to the point where your forearms are fucking killing you and you somehow feel like your nostrils are stained with the smell of blood before you decide that it's as good as it's gonna get. You slump into the bathroom with a final bucket of water and groan when you see the state it's in. You'd forgotten how much worse it was than everywhere else. 

You ignore Dirk moping in the bath and drop back to your hands and knees. You're going to sleep for a million years when you're done.

You're already making decent progress on the floor when Dirk finally notices you're in there. You're flattered by the attention he's giving you. You need to stop being sarcastic inside your head where no one can appreciate it. You're gonna be sarcastic out loud instead.

‘Dude, don’t worry about that shit. It’s my mess. I’ll deal with it when I can,’ Dirk says, sitting up and causing the water to slosh quietly.

‘“It's my mess,” he says, about his God damn _blood_ ,’ you grumble. ‘Oh yeah, I'll just let you do that, no problems, I'd hate to be inconvenienced slightly by you just leaking your whole body out everywhere.’

You wring the cloth out and look at the bloody bucket of water hopelessly. It isn't going to make any difference now, looking at the state of it. You can get to it later, you've done enough. 

You sit on your ass and lean against the wall, turning to look at Dirk in the bath. You’re gonna pretend like you’re a casual bastard with no stakes in his nudity. It’s basically irrelevant, anyway. 

‘If you don't get out so I can wash myself off I'm just going to hop in with you,’ you threat weakly.

He sighs at you like some kind of disappointed school teacher.

‘When you were supposed to be learning to talk, did your parents just teach you how to bitch and be sarcastic at every conceivable moment? Because that is literally all that ever comes out of your mouth. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a single sincere _syllable_.’

He pulls out the plug though. And then leans out of the tub to grab a towel from the rack.

Here's a problem. If you look away while Dirk gets out of the bath with his underwear clinging to him like that and his body being generally Dirk-like, that's the nice thing to do, and you tend to go in the opposite direction of the nice thing to do whenever Dirk's involved. If you stare, then you're staring. Which while that's something you definitely want to do short-term, he's hot even when he looks exhausted (lucky for him, he never looks well-rested), you don't fancy the mental image lingering.

Of course while you're having this internal debate with yourself, he's standing up and you're not looking away, so that matter's sorted. You decide that seeing as you're looking you're gonna let yourself watch the whole drying process. You have earned perviness tonight. Good for you for not doing this when he was literally incapable of moving without you. 

Not that he’s much better right now, he looks pretty wobbly. He has to lean against the shower wall to dry his hair. It makes the muscles on his back stand out. It takes him a bit to get out of the bath, but you figure his dignity might not be able to handle you helping him right now. And you don’t want to. 

He wraps the towel around his shoulders and rests his shoulders against the wall.

‘Did anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?’ he asks.

You grin at his discomfort and cock your head to the side in prime ass-checking-out position. You're mostly just being a dick though, so you look him in the eye again pretty quickly. He rolls his eyes at you.

‘Hey, is your bedroom light proof?’ you ask.

‘Possibly. I mean, I have curtains. I’m not sure what qualifies as light proof.’

‘If you don't know, it isn't good enough,’ you decide. ‘Go crash in my bed. If you shrivel up I guess I'll get my money back on my curtains. They actually said they were vampire safe in the ad.’ He looks at you strangely, which you guess makes sense. He's the fang-banger of the two of you. ‘Migraines,’ you remind him. You're pretty sure he already knew that. It's not like you leave your room when they happen.

‘I don’t have to crash in your bed, and I don’t particularly want to either. My room’s probably fine anyway, and is it really a bad outcome if I do shrivel up and die?’

‘I don't want to clean up your ash,’ you remind him.

You heave yourself to your feet and start unwrapping your wrist. It's raised up but impressively closed over, almost like it was a papercut rather than you slashing at yourself with a straight razor with absolutely no common sense. Maybe Dirk's not the only stupid one in here. He’s looking at your wrist too, but pretending like he’s not. 

‘Damn. I know most vampire bites heal quickly, but I didn’t think that applied to wounds inflicted by dumbasses.’

You turn your wrist over, looking at it carefully as if you think it's about to start bleeding again. It isn't. You're not sure how comfortable you are with this obvious display of Dirk's vampireness changing something about your body. 

‘My sheets are clean and I'll take your bed so you don't have to worry about me creeping on you.’

You walk past him to turn on the shower. If you bath you'll actually fall asleep, you're staying standing. You meet his eyes with an eyebrow raised as you start to unbutton and unzip your jeans. You're pretty fantastic at playing gay chicken and you _will_ get naked before you ask him to leave.

‘Are you really going to whip your dick out in front of me, Hal? Is that really what your goal is for the night? You seriously need to find better hobbies.’ 

He’s glaring at you, but he clearly isn't getting the hint to just leave the damn room so you turn slightly to show off the curve of your ass as you pull your jeans off. If you were getting undressed just for you you wouldn't be taking your time so much but either you can ironically striptease at him until he fucks off or you can just straight up take your clothes off.

‘Shower's on, Dirk,’ you say. ‘I'm getting naked. Your participation is not required. I'm a big boy and can do it all by myself.’ 

You kick your jeans off dramatically into the corner of the bathroom before looking at him challengingly. You've had enough forced intimacy tonight and don't think you need to add _Dirk officially knows your dick size_ to the list, but you're also still not backing down from gay chicken ever. You'd fuck a dude before you backed down from gay chicken. The fact that you like fucking dudes has literally nothing to do with that, you just cannot say no to a challenge.

‘Like you wouldn’t enjoy getting naked just to fuck with someone,’ he says, accurately. Aw, he’s blushing. You love it when you get to him that bad. He wavers for a second as he straightens from the wall but he doesn’t fall. ‘Try not to slip and break your neck in there.’

He leaves you to it and you stop acting like a dickhead. You climb into the shower and lean against the wall, suddenly exhausted. The hot water feels incredible on your skin, and the heavy whoosh against your ears is hypnotic. You have to force yourself to pick up your soap and actually clean yourself, much as you know you need it. 

When you're out, you almost feel light-headed by the contrast from hot water to cool apartment. You dry yourself off and brush your teeth before realising that you've been a while. 

Dirk's probably (hopefully?) asleep. And he's an annoyingly light sleeper, so you don't know if you're going to be able to go into your room for pajamas. And you're not putting your underwear back on, the blood had kinda seeped through your jeans and you just can't bear being anything other than really clean at the moment.

You wrap the towel around your waist and go to Dirk's room, feeling weird about it the whole time. You're not allowed in his room. You've barely ever broken that rule. You're trying to be quiet so you don't wake him as you carefully open the door and then close it behind you, moving slowly as if that'll make the hinges more likely to be quiet.

‘Jesus Christ, man. I came in here to _avoid_ your naked ass,’ Dirk groans.

You just about jump out of your skin. You nearly drop your towel. Both of these reactions are exactly not how you want to behave in front of anyone but especially Dirk.

‘You're supposed to be in my bed. Vampire. Friendly. Curtains.’ You lean your forehead against the door and groan quietly in frustration. Your heart is really fucking galloping along. You don't have the energy for this anymore. Part of you just wants to sleep on the fucking floor where you're standing. You push that part away and force yourself to open the door again.

‘Go,’ you insist. You point at the door with the hand that isn't holding your towel up. Now that your eyes have adjusted a bit you can see that not only are Dirk's curtains not good enough, he didn't even bother to close them. You're suddenly wondering if you can leave him alone.

‘I don’t need a reminder. I came in here so you could go in your room and get dressed. I’m not about to let you sleep with your bare ass touching my sheets.’ He crosses his arms and stays stubbornly on top of his sheets. ‘I’m not moving until you put something on that isn’t a towel. Get your ass dressed and I’ll go to your room.’

You _really_ want to bother him about his fucked up priorities. He cares more about your sleepwear than he does about his survival. You want to needle him about it until he admits he has a problem and does what you want. But you know that's not how Dirk responds to your needling.

You're a lot more awake as you put pajamas on (proper full length pants and a t-shirt, you'll barely get any skin on his precious sheets) than you have been for a while. You patching him up and giving him blood isn't going to count for shit if he decides to wander into the kitchen during daytime and gets himself fried. 

You go back to Dirk, rubbing your hair properly dry with the towel and point at the door again. Maybe if you can avoid speaking you can avoid snarking at him. It's not the most solid plan you've ever had, but you're struggling to remember a single nice thing you've said to him and suddenly that particular attribute doesn't seem cohesive with vampire suicide prevention.

He looks you up and down critically and apparently you pass his test. He gets up and moves past you. 

You have no idea how you're going to convince him not to make a big deal of this. You just follow him to your room, and go over to make sure the curtains are closed before you close the door with you still on the inside. 

Your bed's a double, which usually seems excessive to you seeing as you've rarely had company in it, but watching him get into it makes you wonder why you never invested in like a king size. Is there a bigger-than-king size? That's the bed you want. Maybe you should sleep on the floor. 

Jesus, how are you going to convince him to let you do this?

‘Can I sleep in here with you?’ you ask quietly.

He stares at you for what feels like an eternity, frozen sitting on your bed and looking like he really isn’t comfortable there.

‘... Why?’

You pause, because you have to be careful here. You have to _think_ before you speak. 

The thing is, Dirk isn't the kind who wants to look after himself but he _really_ doesn't want anyone else looking after him. There's a reason you bitch at him to turn his light off claiming it’s keeping you up instead of telling him that he's been awake for 48 hours again. But bitching isn't going to work this time and you don't think sympathy is going to fly either, especially seeing as you have zero experience being a sympathetic person.

‘I don't want nightmares, you say. Your voice comes out reluctant, because you don't want to be making up like you're weaker than you are, but you don't _think_ you sound insincere. You can't look at him to check if he believes you. ‘There was a lot of blood ... I promise I'm not a cuddler but we could put pillows down the middle of the bed if you're worried about space …’ You scrunch up your face and force yourself to say, ‘Please.’

He keeps staring at you and you keep avoiding eye contact. You don’t risk looking at him in case he figures out that your real motivation isn’t fear for yourself, it’s for him. 

Eventually, you see him nod out of the corner of your eye, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

‘I... guess. If you really want to. I don’t give a shit about the space thing though; there’s worse to wake up to than someone being a little close.’

You're not going to risk it by saying anything else. You nod and walk over to the bed, get under the cover like if you do it quick enough it'll somehow be less awkward. You have no idea what direction to face. Facing him seems bad, but away seems to be inviting him to spoon you? This is why you don't sleep over when you hook up with people, it's just too hard to figure this stuff out.

You lie on your back. Your _everything_ feels too close to him but you can actually feel the seam of the bed with your pinky finger so you're right on the edge. You fold your hands on your stomach so you won't feel like you're trying to touch him.

You do not want to be noticing that he smells nice, or that his breathing is actually starting to calm you down from your stupidity, but you are. 

Either he's less of a disaster than you are or he's just better at sleeping with people because he's used to it, but he sounds like he's relaxed. Not a word you usually associate with Dirk. 

But it's contagious, and slowly your heart stops beating like a hummingbird and your back muscles stop clenching and you feel like actually maybe this wasn't a terrible idea.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal experiences a real vampire bite. Okay, maybe he gets what the fuss is about now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: explicit trans-man, vampire sex. Because of the vampire venom and the side effects, this could be viewed as mildly dub con. See end notes for phrases to skip past sex scene. :)

You wake up briefly when your alarm clock tells you it's just after 10 in the morning and you're thoroughly the little spoon. The small part of you that's awake enough to care is also the idiot part of you that is just disgruntled that you aren't at least the cuddler in the situation rather than the cuddlee. You fall back asleep before you can figure out why that isn't the part you should be taking issue with.

When you next wake up, it's 2:30 in the afternoon and you're starving. And still very much being cuddled. It might actually be worse than before. It's like you're a sunny rock and Dirk's a lizard and oh shit, he's a vampire. He actually might not be generating body heat at the moment. 

Dirk's managed to get both his arms around you as well as a leg. It's honestly kind of impressive, and even more impressive that your loner ass didn't wake up with all the touching this must have involved. There's absolutely no way you're going to be able to leave without waking him, but you waste several minutes trying to think of the smoothest way to escape before you move his arm. How on earth is this so comfortable? Heavy, sleeping limbs should be suffocating, not ... nice. You push his arm off you slowly, trying to encourage him to roll onto his back.

He rolls off you and onto his back before he drapes an arm over his face. A moment later and he’s rolling away from you, and even though you can’t see his expression, there’s tension in every line of his body. 

You sit up and press the heels of your hands into your eyes, getting rid of the sleepiness from them. Dirk seems to be having a regularly scheduled panic attack over something or other, maybe the fact that you got a lot closer than you should have last night, but you need coffee before you deal with that.

‘Stay in the room,’ you mumble. ‘Sun.’

You lurch to your feet with all the usual grace you have in the morning, which is absolutely none, and make it to your door via the usual method of groping everything in the path to it on the way. 

You'd lock your door if you could because you haven't suddenly decided you trust Dirk with his mortality, but you can't. What you can do is make yourself coffee and grab something instant-ish like cereal and then eat in your room as if you're being clingy or something. 

The coffee feels like it takes forever to make. You actually manage to eat all your cereal by the time it's ready to pour, though you are eating fast because you're hungry. You decide to put a frozen pizza in the oven as well. You have no idea how much blood Dirk took, you're feeling pretty healthy considering, but it won't hurt you to gorge a bit. You set an alarm on your watch and take your coffee back to your bedroom.

He's not in your room when you get back. Of course he's not in your room when you get back. It's been like ten fucking minutes tops, why would he have stayed in the one place in the house you made safe for him. You should have pulled all the blinds down immediately, just in case, why would you ever think that Dirk fucking Strider was going to do as he was told. 

You turn your light on and check under your bed, just in case. You think you probably would have died if he was there, watching you. Your heart would have just decided it wasn't worth beating anymore with that kind of bullshit in the world. But he's not. He's clearly not anywhere in the room. 

‘Dirk?’ you call. 

You go back into the hallway and grimace at the fact that there is definitely sunlight here. Not that it hurts you, but if you noticed it, he did. Why is he so stupid? Also, is he dead now? You have no idea what happens to vampires in sunlight. You look at the carpet for a pile of ash like in the cartoons. There isn't anything, but you're suddenly on the very edge of panicking for about the millionth time in the last 24 hours.

You go into his room, again fighting the _Dirk's room = forbidden_ vibe you've held onto because where else would he go? The curtains are still open, so you close them. There's no reason for them to be open. 

Oh fuck, it smells like burning in here. Oh _fuck_.

‘Dirk?’ you say again, your voice weak. You don't want him to be dead. You might have said it would just be an inconvenience before but you're going to be really fucking upset if he's dead.

‘You need to get out. _Now_.’ That’s Dirk’s voice, coming from his closet. ‘Get the _fuck_ out of here before I end up decking your ass.’

You let out an embarrassing noise of pure relief. You actually have to sit on Dirk's bed, you really thought he was ...

But no, he's just hiding in his closet. Which is weird. Was your company so bad he had to escape? You were being good. And, actually, he's sometimes told you to fuck off before he punches you but you've usually really earned it. 

He's hungry. There's basically no way that's not what it is. Your first instinct is to ask him sarcastically if he thought hiding from his only source of food was really the smartest thing to do, but clearly he did think that. He didn't want to bite you last night. Of course he doesn't want to bite you today.

Well, you can't trick him into thinking you've suddenly decided you want to get high on vampire bites and want him to be your dealer, even though that'd probably be easier than convincing him to do it for his own survival. You're not tipping your hand about last night. No more asking him for favours unless you really need something.

‘Can you please just bite me now when I know it's coming? Surely that's better than you becoming rabid or something and not having the control to ... go gentle on me.’

‘Can you not phrase it like that?’ he says. He doesn’t sound murderous anymore, which you’re counting as a good thing. ‘I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to fuck up and kill you or …’ He pauses and you strain trying to hear him before he continues. ‘I don’t trust myself.’

You're going to try for some empathy. You don't want to hurt him, he doesn't want to hurt you. This is the weirdest truce you've had in your whole roommate arrangement, even though you know no one else would put up with you and you occasionally have to make nice so he doesn't put that to the test. You think the only reason you work together is because it hasn't occurred to him that he might deserve a roommate that doesn't drive him up the wall.

‘I can cut myself again,’ you say, carefully, ‘but if you can bite me that might be better. You probably need to learn at some point and I think the fangs might have the happy juice in them. Not a chance people are becoming groupies for what I did last night.’

You realise what you've said about a second after you've said it. You didn't mean to ever imply you had a less than awesome time donating an unknown amount of your life fluid to your psycho roommate. You have no idea how to fix that without digging a deeper hole for yourself, so you're just going to hope he's in a reasonable mood. Or a too-hungry-to-think mood.

It takes him a bit before he replies.

‘I don’t want you cutting yourself again. That was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen you do, and you’ve done your fair share of stupid shit. I don’t particularly want to do the alternative either, but …’

He trails off. You really wish you weren’t having this conversation through the closet door.

‘I can’t exactly bite you efficiently from inside the closet. Is it at least dim enough out there that I won’t get fried? ‘Cause that fuckin’ sucked ass.’

You've won. Which usually doesn't mean you get to put another couple of holes in your body, but you're taking the victory. You're pretty relieved you don't have to do it yourself and you're kind of curious as to what had Dirk seeking out vampires all this time anyway. 

You've never done any drugs, you've barely even drunk alcohol, mostly because you do most of your socialisation online and you haven't been able to justify the risk of fucking up your brain with the reward of fucking up your brain. You actually like your brain. You don't know what you're getting into at all.

You grin with satisfaction at yourself before you speak.

‘You can come out of the closet, Dirk. This is a safe place.’

You'd actually rather get him back in your room which is properly blacked out, but you think he'll be okay in here. If he looks uncomfortable he can just go back in the closet.

‘I don’t think anywhere is a safe place if you’re around,’ he retorts. 

The door opens very slowly. He comes out even slower, his head ducked to get past his clothes. His hair is messier than you’ve ever seen it, curling in parts and flat in others. He looks ridiculous enough that it swings back around to cute.

And he has fangs now. They ... suit him, strangely. He's actually going to bite you with his vampire fangs and suck the blood from your body. You need to _immediately_ remove all vampire themed porn sites from your bookmarks because that is the only excuse you have for why you're suddenly nervous. The vague worry about it hurting or causing you some kind of damage is _infinitely_ drowned out by whatever stupid part of a human's brain makes them willing to do this in the first place.

Right, human failing, not anything to do with you thinking Dirk's hot or anything remotely connected to that train of thought. 

‘Is there, uh, a specific place you want me to do this?’ he asks.

‘I've never …’ you start, before swallowing heavily. ‘Just do what comes naturally,’ you say, trying to sound casual. 

It makes sense that he has some kind of instinct, right? An instinct that vampires have developed to feed on humans and keep them around for slavery or whatever. Is that racist? You also need to stop watching vampire horror movies. 

‘I don’t know what comes naturally,’ he says, which seems like the most true statement you’ve ever heard from him. ‘Everyone I’ve ever done it with typically bites the neck, but …’ 

He looks you up and down as if looking for an alternative, but he doesn’t seem to find one. He nods to himself.

‘Punch me if you start to feel like you’re going to pass out.’

You stare at his fangs and listen to him carefully as if he's going to tell you something that will make this all easier to deal with. He doesn't. You scoot back on his bed so at least if you do get light headed you can just lie down or fall on something soft.

‘Got it,’ you say. 

You open and close your hands nervously before putting them firmly on the bed and you actually have a moment of confusion about what side of the neck it should be before you realise you're being really stupid and just tilt your head to the side, looking up at him to see when he's going to do it. You feel ... submissive. It's not your favourite colour to wear. (It's fucking thrilling.)

He doesn’t take his eyes off your neck as he sits down. He breathes deeply, which reminds you to do the same, or at least normally. The tension only gets worse as he psyches himself up to bite you. You have no idea what he's thinking. You can't empathise with the feeling of wanting to _consume_ someone like this. The idea of you just being food for him is ... Okay, you think you can maybe get why Dirk was doing this in the first place. 

‘Sorry about this,’ he mutters, leaning in close to you.

He takes his time moving towards your neck until his lips are touching you and you're tempted to fidget but he's focused on your neck and you're not going to move and draw his attention anywhere else. 

When his fangs finally dig into your skin, you groan, entirely unintentionally. It hurts, but it's the kind of hurt that doesn't do a damn thing to stop you from being turned on. And after only a couple of seconds the hurt is gone and you suddenly _really_ know why people do this. 

Your eyes close as you feel the strangest dizzying sensation like your brain is travelling really fast while the rest of you stays still. Somehow, this feels like an excellent thing for your brain to be doing. You feel both more and less aware of everything, like your thoughts are moving slower but you're taking more in. 

You can appreciate the feeling of Dirk's sheets under your hands and the comfort of your clothes, but as distracting as it is that you're _noticing_ things like that is, it holds nothing to the sensation that is all Dirk.

You've always liked hickeys and neck kisses in general, and this is even better. Your hands feel heavy, but you manage to bring one up to touch his shoulder, to keep him on you. You wonder if you could come just like this, it's like you can feel every nerve in your body and they're all leading to your dick. You're painfully hard.

He's close, so deliciously close, and he's only getting closer. He presses his body close to yours and wraps his arm around you. His other hand starts to slowly trace up your arm and then back down before resting his fingers around the pulse point on your wrist. His hands on you are electric even through your shirt and when he touches you skin to skin it's only better. 

He drags his tongue over the bite and groans with clear pleasure before pressing his mouth back again to keep sucking. 

You're starting to feel cold in your fingertips, which you wouldn't even notice except that for the first time since he turned you're trying to get close to his heat and you can hear your breath coming in gasps. It's more than just the fact that you're turned on as hell, you're starting to get dizzy, and you're feeling all this through the sea of _good_ that his bite has given you.

You whine in frustration because you don't _want_ this to end, it’s like asking him to stop sucking your dick rather than your neck but you're sure that if you're even able to feel concerned that means this needs to stop. 

You push weakly at his shoulder before you remember what he said about punching him and you hit him with the bottom of your fist as well. Your traitorous other hand grips at his shirt stubbornly even though you're trying to make him let go. 

‘Dirk,’ you moan. ‘Enough …’

It takes him a few tense heartbeats for him to respond, but he takes his mouth back, panting. He doesn’t take his hands off you.

You're ready to feel disappointed because nothing can feel as good as that did. But you're still feeling the high. It still feels just as good. Except that he isn't touching you enough anymore. 

‘Are ... Are you okay?’ he asks.

He's checking on you and you should answer. You really should say yes and then get up and close the blinds in the rest of the house so he can get back to your room and you should not touch him again until the next time he needs to feed, assuming that he still wants to feed on you. 

The thought of him doing this with anyone else is _not_ okay, you saved him, he's your ... roommate. You feel on the edge of woozy, you have no idea if that's the high or the bloodloss, and it's making it hard to think properly. You just know that no matter _why_ you're feeling it, you’re feeling fucking possessive. 

He's looking at you like he still wants to eat you and you want him to, you're already high and you can't lose anymore blood but you want him to bite you again. You can't stop your hand from gripping into his shirt. You touch his arm with your other hand, and suddenly you're addicted to the feeling of touching him. 

You want to pull him down onto the bed and fuck him. The voice in your head that insists that's a bad idea doesn't seem to be able to tell you why that is anymore.

He squeezes his eyes shut and places his hands on your shoulders. He opens them again after a moment and pushes you back, not hard, just firmly. You find yourself letting go of him even though you don’t want to. Okay, you can think again.

‘Hal? Talk to me here. Are you okay? I didn’t fuck up beyond belief and give you brain damage, did I?’

You take stock of yourself so you can answer Dirk's question.

You're spacey, but you can think. Your fingers were feeling cold but they're feeling better now and you don't think you're in danger of being sick or passing out. You feel like you could go again. You feel like the reason you want to is because you're still really turned on. 

Now that you've thought about it, you can't seem to stop thinking about it. You can't tell Dirk. He probably knows. _God_ , he probably knows. You stare up at him, wondering what it's doing to him that he did that to you, that you're so horny you can't think past it to answer a simple question and it's all because of him. 

‘I feel fine,’ you say, because he's starting to look worried. You keep eye contact for a moment, before you're drawn back to looking at his fangs, the way his chest is moving as he breathes, lower, to where you think you can see his dick straining against his pants.

Your hand goes to his hip before you think any farther than that. You pull him towards you, suddenly starved for contact. He reaches for you right back, and he’s not looking worried anymore. He’s looking hungry in a very different way. 

He leans in and presses his lips to your neck. You’re sure he’s going to bite you again and you can’t bring yourself to care, but he doesn’t. He drags his lips up your neck and to your jaw and you _groan_ , all control completely gone.

You grab at him, pulling him closer, getting your hands under his shirt and to his skin. He's cool to touch, but not overwhelmingly so, and the smoothness of his stomach feels amazing. You can feel more than usual, or at least that's what you think, and the sensation of the tiny soft hairs under your hands is blowing your mind almost as much as the feeling of his mouth moving up your jaw. 

You turn your head to catch his mouth with yours, kissing him with a desperation that is completely unwise given the fact that you know he has some new sharp teeth that you should want to avoid. You want him too much to care.

He’s responding to you with equal enthusiasm, kissing you and encouraging you. You move your hands to his back so you can pull him in closer as you kiss. You almost stand up trying to get as close as possible, while at the same time trying to drag him down to you. You want more, you're pretty fucking close to thrusting your hips up into nothing so you grab him more firmly and _twist_ , pulling him onto the bed. He moans beautifully and clings to you.

You climb onto him, pushing his shirt up so you can keep touching his skin, crushing your mouth to his and groaning with how good it all feels. You can feel the raised ridges of healed scars and a firmness to his skin that means strength and apparently you've thought about doing this enough to be surprised by that.

The feel of your heart beating hard and strong in your veins urges you on. You want his clothes gone, and yours, you want to get _inside_ him, or him inside you, you're operating entirely on an instinct that doesn't give a shit about your competitive relationship and is making you more and more needy. Your kisses are deep and intense, and you've never been so turned on by the feel of your tongue against someone else's before.

His fingers tangle in your hair as he strokes your body with his other hand. He’s touching you everywhere, like he wants to take advantage of the opportunity. You open your body up as much as you can to his touch, despite his hand in your hair keeping you close. His hand moves to your pants, untying them with the kind of clumsiness that comes from being utterly unwilling to take his time. 

You grind into his hand shamelessly even though you know that has to make it harder to get you out of your pants. You pull at his shirt, wanting it off and absolutely unwilling to break apart from him to do anything about it.

You're don't think you've ever gotten carried away like this. Every kiss and suck and bite that Dirk levels at you has you more and more worked up. You thought your neck was a _normal_ level of sensitive but you're moaning like a virgin who's been told the way to get sex to happen is to imitate every sound he heard on the naughty channels while his parents were out.

‘Dirk,’ you gasp. ‘If you don't get naked right this fucking second I'm going to come in my pants and I'd really rather do it in you.’

He manages to get your pants down and starts to work at his shirt. You help him push it up his ribs and promptly get distracted touching his skin.

‘Hal,’ he pants, still struggling to get out of his shirt while you lean into him. ‘I can’t exactly get myself naked that well when you’re right on top of me.’

He finally gets out of his shirt and pushes you back enough to wiggle out of his pants.

It's strange to be fighting to be close to Dirk, but your first impulse when he pushes you away is to cling harder. You let him go after a second and use the time properly, to get yourself out of your shirt and kick your pants off. You roll back on top of him and moan at the sensation of skin to skin contact even before you find yourself overwhelmed by the feeling of his dick against yours. 

You've been with a trans guy before so you know somewhat what to expect. So far you've been acting entirely on instinct and your head really isn't clear enough to be having the kinds of conversations that are good to have, you're much more interested in thrusting slowly to drag your dick against his. It's hard to think of anything that isn't how amazing that feels.

You stroke down his chest as you thrust and stare at his body where you touch it. He's ridiculously attractive and you can literally see your touch raising goosebumps on his skin. It’s fucking heady. Your hips are moving almost automatically even though you want to drag things out; your mind is foggy with lust and your high. 

He grinds back against you and cups your cheek to drag you down for a desperate kiss. You’re gasping by the time he releases your lips in favour of your neck again. 

‘You know,’ he says, just as breathless as you and his lips brushing against your neck as he speaks, ‘this isn’t exactly how you get to come in me.’

You force yourself to breathe somewhat normally and still your hips, reaching down to touch his dick, stroking him gently. You reach behind and trail your fingers lightly along him until you reach his asshole and then back. The feeling of his skin, his wetness and the way he shakes slightly under you is addictive. You keep touching him, teasingly light as he tips back his head and groans.

‘What do you want?' you ask. 

You dip your head lower to flick your tongue against his nipples. You can't quite stop from rocking your hips, slower now, against his leg.

‘Whatever you want,’ he says. ‘Fuck me. Shove your dick down my throat. Get me to fuck you. I don’t give a shit. I’m just worried you might not last long at this rate.’

Your ability to make a snappy comeback is severely compromised by the feeling of his hand curling around your dick. He gives you a few slow, teasing pumps and you realise that the insult to your staying power is deeply accurate. 

You're going to try and draw this out as long as possible but you're fucking turned on. His hand around you has you leaking pre like a goddamn faucet. You moan into his chest and let your fingers touch him with a bit more pressure, not enough to enter him but enough to spread his own pre around a bit.

‘We haven't exactly talked about whether your man-cave's off limits,’ you mutter. You can't pretend like you haven't thought about this, or that you aren't nervous about fucking up despite your hormones urging you to just pick a damn hole and fuck it. 

The thought of it being his mouth shoots a hot wave of arousal through you. You've always thought Dirk's lips were too pretty to be wasted on talking. The fact that he may or may not have learned to keep his fangs away should be a turn _off_ not another reason to want it.

‘Hal, I literally could not give less of a shit about where you stick your dick as long as it’s not somewhere fuckin’ obscure and impractical.’ He gives your dick a light squeeze. ‘Nothing is off limits.’

You shudder and lean into his hand more as his fingers rub teasing patterns into your head. You should pull away, give yourself more room to breathe, but you can't. It feels too fucking good. 

‘Eyeballs it is,’ you say, attempting to sound joking and casual but the effect is completely ruined by the panting mess his hand is turning you into. 

‘Something gives me the impression that that fits into the obscure and impractical category, but I won’t hold you back. Maybe I’ll discover I have a kink for getting fucked in the eyes.’

Permission granted, you press two fingers into his slit and groan at the way his body yields for you so nicely. His hand on your dick gets lighter and more teasing, and then stops all-together as he arches his back to lift it off the bed as if trying to take you deeper.

He's just as worked up as you, you could probably fuck him right away, but you like how he feels right now and you want this to last longer. You could do this forever, you'd happily die in this strange tense-but- _so_ -good state and you like the way that denying yourself the satisfaction feels. 

You kiss him again as you work your fingers in and out of him. The feeling of his tongue against yours gives you something to focus on that isn't the growing tingling sensation building in your groin. 

He nips and tugs at your bottom lip in between kisses and _Jesus_ , your biting kink is getting well looked after. His teeth feel amazing on your lips, pulling exactly roughly enough to make you groan without hurting you so that you break out of it. You love the look in his golden eyes as he does it, too, pupils blown huge behind soft lids.

Dirk is moving with your fingers in an unspeakably hot way. It makes it hard to concentrate on kissing him when you want to feel him tight and hot around your dick instead.

You can't hold off that long though, pulling your fingers out and lining yourself up. You look into his eyes to make sure he's still keen. He is. He looks about five seconds from begging for it and as tempting as it is to make him, you're worried you'll give up first. 

‘Fuck,’ you gasp as the tip of your dick brushes his entrance, ‘you feel fucking amazing.’

He loops an arm around your shoulders and bites his lower lip once you start pushing in. 

‘Hal, please,’ he pants.

Your breath leaves you shakily as you slide into him, taking it slow against every instinct. Dirk practically meets you half-way, and you groan as you bottom out. You don't stop, he’s begging you to keep going and you manage to ease into some kind of rhythm despite the fact that you don’t know if you have a brain anymore.

He feels amazing, warm and tight and the sweet drag as you pull out is the best thing you've ever felt. Or that's what you think until you push back into him. You start to thrust properly, kissing him to keep yourself from losing control. Even if you didn't have some kind of point to prove you wouldn't want this to be over too soon. It feels better than any sex you've ever had.

His nails dig into your back and he clenches around you and _fuck_ that’s good. He's fucking insatiable, it's impossible not to give him more. You break away from kissing him so you can extend your arms and go harder and faster. You feel like you're covered in goosebumps, and his hands are _everywhere_ , guiding your attention to different parts of you and how great they feel when he touches them. 

‘Fuck, Hal. You feel so fuckin’ good,’ he moans.

He's loud, too, which is something you couldn't have expected and which turns you on so much more. You like making him this way. You love the way he says your name like this. You can't help but respond, not that you weren't already ridiculously moany by your own standards. 

‘Dirk,’ you groan. You don't hate the way his name sounds like this either. ‘So good, _fuck_.’

He drops the hand that was digging into your hip between you and starts stroking himself and you stare like you’ve never seen anything as hot in your life. You might not have.

‘I think ... _Fuck_ , I think I’m close,’ he tells you.

‘Jesus, Dirk,’ you pant. ‘Yes, _fuck_ , yes.’

You grab his legs and hook them over your arms, holding his hips up as you fuck into him harder. You can't keep your orgasm back too much longer. You shake your hair out of your face impatiently and lean into his free hand as it brushes past your nipple again.

‘There,’ you insist. ‘More, please.’

He absolutely obliges, rubbing circles around your nipple before pinching and squeezing. You lose yourself in the tightening feeling of approaching orgasm. Dirk is gorgeous like this. He's flushed and needy, stroking himself and biting his lip against beautiful moans.

You can feel the change in Dirk just before he starts swearing properly. He's tighter and just _different_ as his back arches through it and knowing that he's coming, hearing him and watching him is too much and you've been riding the edge for too long to resist any longer. You feel like your orgasm is pulled out of you, too intense to hold in.

You drop your head and moan as you keep thrusting, slower now because your body can't keep up the pace now it isn't desperate to come, until you feel him relax around you. You thrust one more time, deep, just for the feeling, before you pull out and slump on top of him, breathing heavily. You need to exercise more. You're pretty sure you have this thought every God damn time you have sex. Maybe you just need to let someone else top for a change. Even when you bottom you do it from the top.

‘Fuck, Dirk,’ you say. 

Your face is pressed against his neck, which is enough reason to kiss it lightly. It actually feels more risky being affectionate with him than fucking him, which says something pretty messed up about you you're sure.

He wraps his arms slowly around you like he’s just as ruined as you. He leans into your lips against his neck and strokes your back lightly.

‘I think you’ve officially lost the right to call me a stupid fang-banger.’

You can't really get closer than you are, but you can shift to a more comfortable and less "I fell like this" kind of position, so you do, keeping your face pressed right up close to his neck. He smells amazing. 

Given that he’s being soft with you, you decide that active cuddles are allowed without losing face and you shift your arm so you can run your fingers through his hair. You drag your fingertips with a bit of weight behind them, massaging his scalp. 

‘Well fuck,’ you say. ‘Now my list of insults is all unbalanced.’ It turns out that sarcasm doesn't come out nearly as biting when your voice is soft from pleasure and you're cuddling him. 

‘What a shame,’ he says, and his sarcasm doesn’t come out quite right either. He hums softly as he draws little shapes on your back with his fingertips. ‘I think you’ll manage without the insult. You did back before I started fucking around with vampires.’

‘I really thought I had more self control than that. Is it going to be like that every time?’ you ask

‘I mean, from what I know, it’s different for everyone. I know that the effect has gotten weaker on me over time, but I can’t say the same for others.’

You consider that as carefully as you can. It's difficult while you feel high and soft and like the phrase "fucked his brains out" actually has roots in truth right now. You're not sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed in the possibility of you being able to control yourself better in future. 

You do know that an hour ago you would have told yourself that sex with Dirk was to be avoided at all costs. Now you're wondering how you'll be able to resist. You're going to have to try. Later. This now basically doesn't count. 

You should probably tell him you're not interested in being his boyfriend or anything, but you're not going to say _anything_ that could result in this cuddle being over too soon.

The way he phrased that almost made it sound like if the intensity has gone down then this might not have been as good as past vampire sex, but you reject that idea pretty quickly. If more than this is possible, it'd probably hospitalise you. 

You want to keep touching him as much as possible but you can feel your limbs getting heavy and your fingers are now just combing through his hair rather than massaging because it's too much effort. You should probably at least roll off him so he can breathe if you're going to fall asleep.

Your eyes are actually closed and you're on the edge of sleep when your watch starts beeping loud and obnoxious and you jump in alarm. Fuck. You sit up slightly and fumble for the button. Your pizza. You'd completely forgotten about that.

You look down at Dirk and narrow your eyes somewhat. He's pinker than usual. Is that from feeding on you? You look back at the standard curtains he has and then back at him. 

‘Back in my room,’ you tell him. ‘If it's a thing that injury makes you hungrier and you're just lingering in the sun then we're fucked because we're keeping this quiet at least until you can control your shit and I only have the regular amount of v-juice running through these primo veins.’

Wow, it's a wonder you've never had a boyfriend. You're clearly a delight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You could argue that the whole blood-drinking thing is foreplay, but the sex scene starts with: "He’s looking hungry in a very different way" and ends with "Your face is pressed against his neck, which is enough reason to kiss it lightly."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boundaries between Dirk and Hal are strange and undefined, and Hal struggles to find where he stands now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big trigger warning for depression/suicidal thoughts. Dirk's not any kind of picture of mental health.

It’s surprisingly not that awkward to get dressed with Dirk. You’re hyper aware that you just crossed several boundaries, but it’s not like there weren’t extenuating circumstances.

It helps that Dirk’s being absolutely consistent with his character, sighing like you’ve greatly inconvenienced him by pointing out the smartest way to go forward.

‘You know, we wouldn’t have to worry about this bullshit at all if I just let the sun do its job. You could keep your precious v-juice and I would be content with whatever the fuck exists after death, if there’s even anything at all.’

God he’s a drama queen. You probably shouldn’t completely dismiss something like that though. 

‘You know, I hate you but I don't _hate_ you. I ... Your life isn't over, okay? When I get sick of you I'll stake you my damn self, until then I don't want you to die.’

You wonder what it would be like if the tables were turned. If you were the vampire, would Dirk be so quick to offer the sun as a "solution"? Would he go to any effort to protect you? Not that you're protecting him, you're just ... dealing with him. He probably would at least let you feed on him, might as well get the high in his own home, but it wouldn't work out. This probably won't work out either, but you're definitely the more competent of the two of you to be handling things. 

Dirk stops midway through pulling his underwear and pants back on, an incredulous look on his face. He shakes his head against whatever he’s thinking and keeps getting dressed. 

‘You’re a damn idiot, then,’ he tells you.

You finish getting dressed and put your hand on Dirk's chest to stop him from just walking out into the hallway. 

"Give me thirty seconds to close the blinds, then go directly to my room."

He frowns a little, but doesn’t make any effort to move past you. You count that as a win.

‘Alright, fine.’

You close the door and move quickly around the house to close all the blinds. You're going to buy proper ones as soon as possible, maybe tape up some fucking cardboard or something in the meantime. You grab the pizza out of the oven, frown at the slightly burnt edges and cut it up. You're taking your time now that the immediate danger of sun has been removed. You're not exactly looking forward to spending all your time in the same room as him and you can't think of any reason to _not_ be in your own room when you barely leave it under any other circumstances.

Apparently sleeping with him isn't enough to make you want to spend time with him. 

You don't actually spend time with anyone. You don't talk to your family, you have two friends online who you can't stand in real life and are a consistent booty call for one dude, that's your social network. The almost daily snarking you have with him over groceries and other shit is the most you speak to anyone.

You take the half eaten pizza back to your room. You should shop for some healthy food at some point if you're gonna keep donating blood. Actually, you need to look that up. Surely there are sites for idiots like Dirk. And now you.

He’s sitting right on the edge of your bed, staring at his phone. You sit at your desk and put your lamp on. Can he see in the dark now? 

You didn't shut your PC down last night with everything that happened, so you only need to move your mouse to bring it to life. Ah, and you just left your minecraft avatar standing out in the elements. You have of course died and Sollux or Equius has come and looted your stupid ass. That's fine. They'll either give you your shit back or you'll retaliate in some way. 

You exit the server and grimace at how many tabs you have open. You just open a fresh window rather than deal with wherever your late-night brain had taken you. First, you get on the site you bought your curtains from. Ugh, you have to measure the windows. Okay, new tab, deal with that later. You pause, tapping your finger idly on your 'u' key while you think of how to condense your question into a google phrase.

Vampire victim donor diet health. Okay, that's a lot of hits. You _are_ going to read a lot of these, but looking at the huge spectrum of reliability is making you want to just crawl under your bed. You didn't want to have to ask Dirk. There’s something wrong with you that you would have let him do anything to you half an hour ago but you don't want to admit that you don't automatically know everything. You spin your chair around to face him.

‘You got any tips for what I should be eating, drinking, whatever?’ you ask.

He looks up and raises his eyebrows. 

‘Probably something along the lines of what blood banks want you to eat and drink. Maybe. I don’t know, man. Just because I fucked a lot of vampires doesn’t mean I know every last thing about dealing with them.’

You start to open your mouth to ask him _how_ he doesn't know more, to berate him for not taking this more seriously. The first time you ever drank, on your 21st birthday, Sollux egging you on and Peta using their fake ID with more confidence than you were using your real one, you did so only after researching the shit out of all the possible side effects alcohol could have and how much was the best amount for your BMI to get you drunk but keep you from being sick. 

You didn't get drunk. Peta did. You snuck them back into your parents house and made tipsy conversation with your dad as they threw up in the bathroom. You've only done it a handful of times since and most of those times have been with them. You guess their attitude towards drinking is a lot more "normal" than your own.

The point is, if you had known you were going to be bitten by a vampire, you would have stocked the house with food, made arrangements for if you felt hungover, told _someone_ you were doing it. You would have prepared. You know _other_ people wouldn't, but Dirk's smart. 

‘What made you do it the first time?’ you ask, surprising yourself a bit.

He doesn’t answer right away. He stares past you and chews on his lower lip. Maybe that’s a personal question? He fiddles with his phone and frowns, and you wonder if he’s going to tell you to mind your own business. But that doesn’t take this much thought.

‘Curiosity,’ he says. It doesn’t ring remotely true, not with how long it took for him to think about it. He sighs, before continuing. ‘I was hoping I wouldn’t live through it.’

You freeze. Your whole brain grinds to a halt. He actually wants to die. He's not just been saying that out of some need to live up to the angst stereotype of vampires. He's been wanting this for months.

How has no one noticed? How have _you_ not noticed? How the fuck are you supposed to comfort a guy when the only people you speak to on any kind of regularity are the ones who have no expectation for you to speak in an emotional or positive way? You're itching to get back to your computer to find a therapist who does house calls or after dark shit, that’s where your comfort zone is, but you can't just let that sit. 

‘Dirk, I …’ 

You have no idea what to say here. You have no idea how close the metaphorical ledge is for him, you don't know if the tough love that is your first instinct might just push him over or how to go about doing the other kind of love, especially because he's Dirk, you're Hal. You don't love him, you hate him, that's how this goes. 

‘I didn't know,’ you say. ‘I thought …’

You leave your seat and sit next to him. You're not great with physical displays of affection but you think you're probably worse at _saying_ shit. 

He stares at you, but you don’t have anything better to say and you’re not sure if he needs a hug. He looks uncomfortable and surprised by your reaction, like you’ve made a mundane thing awkward. He rubs the back of his neck and turns away and part of you is a bit relieved you don’t have to make eye contact with him anymore.

‘Look, it doesn’t matter. Obviously I didn’t get what I wanted out of it. Don’t get all sappy on me. I never managed to successfully get my ass drained, so it’s not like it matters.’

Literally anyone else would be better at this than you, but you move until your arms are touching. It sends a little thrill through you that you know is not natural. His venom is still working in you. There's no other reason for you to react like that to Dirk. You need to say something.

‘Look, broad picture stuff, okay? There's no such thing as a life that doesn't mean something. There's never a good enough reason to cut life short. And you're …’ 

Right, here's the impossible bit to do without sounding sappy. Even if he hadn't directly told you not to literally just now, you'd know neither of you want that. Whatever, you'd rather say it and be embarrassed than not say it and have to live with not knowing if you could have made some kind of difference.

‘You're too …’ Start again. ‘I like having you around. Not saying you should live for me. Obviously. Other people like you too. Shit, I follow your dumb blog. People who don't even know your real name who read your bullshit like you. You make people's lives better by being in them. And I don't know ... I haven't been here, not like this. I don't know if there is a right thing to say, but I can't _not_ say something.’

It's almost too much to bear. You feel awkward beyond speaking, you can't meet his eyes and you're probably not making any difference. But probably doesn't mean certainly and you'd actually be really fucking messed up if he died. The few seconds before you found him in his closet were agonising.

‘How the hell did you find my blog?’ he asks, as if that’s the takeaway. ‘Hal, don't give me that shit. Seriously. I've heard it before and it doesn't fucking work.’

He rubs at his eyes, not as if he’s crying or anything, his whole posture looks exhausted. You don’t know what to say if not more of the same, you’ve never been in this situation before. Granted, you don’t think comforting your suicidal vampire roommate post fuck is a situation many people have been in.

‘It would be a lot more sensible for you to just not say something. You're wasting your breath with this, and I don't get why you're saying anything in the first place. You don't give a fuck about me, Hal. If you're worrying about being inconvenienced by my corpse or whatever else, stop. I'm clearly not kicking the bucket anytime soon.’

Saying shit isn't working. And you're building on a foundation of shit, you've insisted from the moment you met him that you hate him. That's just you though. You tell everyone you know that you hate them.

Figures that the one person who actually believes it is the guy who could stand to have some not-hate in his life. Why haven't you been paying attention? You thought he was chasing danger for the adrenaline or just being an idiot.

Your impulse here is to kiss him again. It's a stupid impulse that can go fuck itself. Because you're in control of your actions again and just because you're close to him does not mean that you need to do anything else other than sit. It's not like some fucking movie where you can defeat mental illness with the power of love. Or your dick. Yeah, that whole support thing is definitely worth it, but your stupid brain can chill on equating "be there for him" with "stick your tongue in his mouth and show him you care". 

‘Fine, too much,’ you say. ‘Can you just promise to tell me if you're actually in danger? Like, okay, safety is relative, but if you're about to take a walk outside at noon can you just tell me? I'll ... sit on you until the urge passes or something.’

He sighs and you almost wish he would look at you. You want to be able to read if you’ve remotely said the right thing or not.

‘Fine. Now can we just pretend that this never happened? Because I would really appreciate it if we just dropped this particular topic and never talked about it again.’

You look at him warily, trying to figure out if he's lying to you. There's not much you can do about it if he is. You nod decisively and stand again. If you're moving on, you're moving on. You need some space.

‘I'm going to take a shower,’ you tell him. ‘You know, you're probably nocturnal now. Just saying.’

It's not worth nannying him anymore than that. He might end up forcing himself to stay awake just to spite you as it is. You go to your cupboard and grab your towel and a change of clothes, ready to take a really fucking long shower. You think you both probably need at least some space. Maybe when it's night again you can swap curtains with him until the new ones come.

After your shower you attempt to stay out in the living room, watching Netflix using headphones and dicking about on your phone, but you like your room too much. You're too used to hiding out in it and being able to type on your keyboard. You're _slow_ on your phone and it’s fucking frustrating. 

You take the giant water bottle you've been trying to finish for blood replenishing purposes and sneak back into your room.

Dirk’s asleep. He doesn't even stir when you close the door, obviously completely out of it. You start doing your research properly, finding a calendar with sunrise and sunset times on it, planning meals for best donation practices and starting to wade through the information out there on the first "rabid" week of a new vampire's existence. 

A lot of it seems to be exaggerated. You wouldn't put it past Dirk to be so uptight that he managed to avoid some of the trappings of this shit, and he definitely didn't seem capable of remembering to stop or of resisting the sex shit that went along with feeding, but he also hasn't attacked you or even ignored your boundaries. He's been more polite about you saying "stop" than several dudes you've been with. 

Despite the difference between what you've seen and what the websites say, you tend to believe it when they say that it's pretty fucking dangerous for a vampire to feed off only one person in the first week. Doable, and traditional in some circles (you ignore the allusions to this being a ritual similar to marriage, you are no more his husband than you are his slave and you are _not_ his slave), but risky. You're not about risk.You're also not about telling anyone who doesn't need to know about this.

You don't need to make a decision about it now. He probably won't wake until sunset and he can bite you again then no problem. You're done thinking about this, about him, for now. You pull up Minecraft, knowing full well that Sollux will have messed with your Castle of Doom and start planning for a new set of traps to rig in it and making a retaliative plan.

When Dirk suddenly sits up, you've actually mostly forgotten he's even in the room and it makes you jump away from him just a bit. You can't be sure because you weren't watching him, but you think he moved supernaturally fast again. You're gonna need to put a bell on him or something, he was quiet and fast enough as it was.

He's pale, paler than usual even accounting for how he's changed since he became a vampire, and he looks scared shitless, gasping for breath in a way that’s a bit alarming. He’s too scared for you to be an asshole about him looking scared. 

You glance at the time, confirming that it's dark now and you don't have to worry about that at last. You move slowly, just enough to get in his line of sight without making him feel trapped. His fangs are very much out, which is making you a bit more cautious than you'd like.

‘You okay, dude?’ you say. Your voice doesn't even sound like you when you're not being sarcastic. That probably says something about you.

He catches his breath slowly and you don’t push him for an answer. He rubs at his eyes and stares at the bed instead of you. He nods slowly.

‘‘M fine,’ he murmurs. ‘It was just a stupid dream. No big deal.’

You elect to forgive his obvious lie like a gentleman. The things you do for him. You also would rather throw yourself off the apartment building than have another feelings talk.

‘Right, well it's dark again. You are free to wander the house normally. You should do that, instead of freaking out in my bed. Let me know when you want ... dinner.’

God, you feel so toothless at the moment. You want to treat him like normal, like nothing has happened, but with you playing babysitter/bloodbag, you really can't just tell him to fuck off. 

You _can_ just turn back to your computer and continue mining virtual cobblestone, so you do that, as if you don't care at all what he does. You're finding it's a lot harder to turn your back on an awake vampire than a sleeping one, but you're stubborn enough to fight the discomfort. It's not like he's a real vampire, he's just Dirk.

‘I’m not doing it again,’ he says adamantly. 

He leaves the room before you can even argue with that, too thrown by how stupid he’s being to respond quick enough. 

You exit your game properly this time, sick of losing progress over Dirk, and follow him to his room.

‘You're not going to do it again?’ you ask, incredulously. ‘You're _starving_ yourself now? Or is it just the bitey-sexy bit that's so abhorrent to you?’

Maybe you can get a needle kit of some kind. You don't think you're supposed to donate as much blood as you'll need to to keep Dirk from going feral though, and without the healing whatever in his venom your blood won't replenish as fast. Stupid stubborn asshole. You don't want to fuck him either, you can work at your restraint.

He sits heavily on his bed and rolls his eyes at you. You consider hitting him.

‘Just because I’m on the other side of the vampire bullshit now doesn’t mean I suddenly want a nun’s sex life. I don’t want to do it because I don’t want to do it. What the fuck are you doing in my room anyway? Get out.’

You actually step backwards. Like you're going to do what he says. No, fuck that. He's on his bed, you were getting along a lot better last time he was on his bed. When you were also on his bed. Not thinking about that.

God, there’s probably some expression about not being able to unsee a friend's dick once you've seen it. He was so hot underneath you. Oh, fuck. You need to be not thinking about that. Maybe you _should_ leave his room. 

‘That's not how this works,’ you say. ‘You can't just decide, “hey, breathing's always been an inconvenience, who likes the feeling of air in lungs, not me!” and just quit doing the thing you need to do to survive. Don't be a dickhead.’

‘Is there some fuckin’ contract somewhere that states that my body is your property? Because I sure as hell don’t remember signing anything that says you can tell me whether or not I do something regardless of its impact on my health.’ He sighs. ‘I’ve already fed on you twice. Somehow, I have the impression that continuing to use you as a chew toy will land you in the hospital. If it really starts to become an issue, I’ll go out and do it with someone else.’

You're just going to have to look away from him as you argue, your stupid body is interpreting the fact that he riles you up easily as a completely different kind of riling up and you're not having it. You glare at his wall instead of him.

‘I don't know what gave you the impression that I would offer you anything I couldn't give. I've looked it up, it'll be fine. Worst case scenario, we call someone here so you don't jump the first passer by.’

You don't glance at him to gauge how he's taking your bossiness because you already know he hates it. Instead you just keep talking without giving him the chance to object.

‘Let's not play pretend here, Dirk. Of the two of us, I was always going to be the one in control and you were always going to be the one sitting on your hands. Your fucking welcome. Let me know if you want me to sort out the rest of your damn life while I'm at it, I'm sure it'll barely take up 5% of my thought-space.’

‘I don’t seem to recall asking you to do fuck all for me. You could have kept playing hermit like you always do and stayed in your bedroom when I got home last night, but you decided for whatever inane reason that you wanted to put your own personal brand of douchebaggery aside. I didn’t fucking ask you to do that. I _wouldn’t_ ask you to do that. I would have gladly died on the goddamn spot. Get the fuck out of my room. _Now_.’

You look at him instead of the wall, absolutely determined to not do as he says, your mouth already open and ready to taunt him further. But he's not fucking around.

His fangs are out again, his hands have actually torn through his sheets and his whole body is tense as if he's ready to leap at you. You swallow and find that you've completely frozen. You can feel your heart beating obnoxiously hard as if calling him to it and you have no idea if it's a vampire thing or a you thing, but he looks hot as hell like this.

You should leave. You should not say anything and leave the dangerous vampire in his own space to calm down. You're a guy that makes logical decisions and you grew out of your poking people who could deck you phase when you were about 10. 

‘Oh please,’ you say, unable to stop yourself. ‘You'd need me to hold your hand and say at least five more times that you're allowed before you’d ever act on this.’

One second, he’s on the bed. The next, he’s got you pinned against the wall. 

One hand is on your chest and the other around your throat. He’s moved so fast he’s knocked the breath out of you and he’s not being nice about it either; he’s gripping you like he might actually want to kill you and you can’t do anything about it. There’s a beat as he glares at you, and then he lurches forward and bites into your neck, _hard_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal learns not to piss new vampires off.

You don’t even manage to gasp air into your lungs before he bites you. Your thoughts go from strangely spiky from that mixture of fear and arousal you were feeling to smooth and echoey with vampire induced high. You feel like you have infinite space in your mind and no pressure to fill it. 

You reach out for him, your movements slow and clumsy and put your hands on his hips, moving yourself closer to the overwhelmingly good sensation. You should be naked for this next time. You want to see if it can get even better. Even the smallest touch of his clothed body to your dick has you blissed out and tingly. You probably wouldn't have the capacity to move properly like this and you don't want to risk jostling the hold he has on your neck but you _want_ him. 

You're groaning, you can hear yourself, but you can't think of any reason to stop doing that. It feels amazing. There's nothing wrong with Dirk knowing that. You grip his hips harder.

Your concept of time is fuzzy like this, and even though you kind of knew what to expect, you think you're not doing as well at keeping track of how much blood he's taking from you. 

You're suddenly aware of a kind of nauseous feeling, of being too cold, of your eyes being closed and your weight leaning almost entirely on the wall rather than your feet. You need him to stop. You feel like the effort to shape your lips into his name is more than it should be. He’s rougher this time, taking more from you faster. This should scare you more than it does.

‘Dirk, stop,’ you say. Your drop your hands from his hips heavily and work at bringing one back up to hit his shoulder. Your brain is warring between dopey, relaxed arousal and faraway panic.

He's not stopping and you're feeling woozy. If you don't do something, you're actually going to pass out and then you won't be able to do anything. You brought this on yourself. What kind of idiot taunts a two-day-old vampire? 

‘Stop,’ you whine uselessly.

You don't have the strength to hit him with any kind of effectiveness. You blame your next actions on the fact that you've never been a particularly moral guy. 

You punch him in the dick.

It works. You feel every millimeter of his fangs as he pulls them out and moves back from you, hands instinctively going to his crotch. You give a small sigh of relief and then brace your hands on the wall behind you.

‘Fuck,’ he says. 

Your vision is swimming and you're either going to throw up or pass out. You wonder if you can choose the vomit option, just to inconvenience Dirk. 

‘Better fuckin' catch me,’ you mumble, before swooning like a damsel on the cover of a trashy vampire novel. You're doing just awesome at this being in control thing.

You basically wake up from your unconsciousness almost immediately after passing out, but it's a weird kind of awareness where you’re not capable of helping Dirk at all as he catches you and you feel like a dead weight that has about two brain cells to rub together.

 

You can hear him swearing under his breath as he drags you to his bed and then drops you on it.

‘You are _such_ a fuckin’ dumbass,’ he tells you.

The room is spinning, so you close your eyes again. It doesn't really help that much, you can still feel the weird sensation like your body is being thrown around even though you're safe on Dirk's bed. You press your hands into it, but it does nothing to assure you of it's solidity. 

‘Fuuuuck,’ you groan.

You feel the bed shift as he presumably joins you. He touches your wrist, like he’s trying to find your pulse. You don’t have it in you to tell him he’s not doing it right.

‘I’m sorry,’ he murmurs.

You open your eyes carefully and breathe deeply. This can happen after a regular ass blood donation, you're not particularly worried for yourself. The fact that your body is able to register Dirk's hand on your skin and interpret that as really nice is just another factor in the you're fine column. 

‘Was askin' for it,’ you slur. Wow, you are not cool with your voice sounding like that. 

Your foggy brain is making you stare at him. You like looking at him like this. Your vision is sharpening and then fracturing into doubles and triples and then sharpening again and it's interesting to take it in.

He doesn’t seem to take well to your staring though. He stops touching your wrist and turns away from you.

‘Try not to pass out. Again.’

You feel loopier than last time and it's making you smile as if he's said something funny. You don't think you're going to pass out, it's just that all your weight has gone from your legs and is now in your head.

‘Not gonna,’ you say. ‘Magic teeth.’

He looks back at you when you talk, which is good for staring reasons. His fangs aren't on display anymore, which is gravely disappointing. His fangs are objectively hot. You would look so good with fangs. And pointy ears. You'd have both, if you were going to change up your look. At least he's still hot without the fangs. You should put a poster of him on your wall so you can look at him like the Backstreet Boys.

‘What the fuck are you trying to communicate here?’ he asks. ‘You know what, forget what I said. Maybe you should try to sleep this off. You look like you’ve eaten your weight in edibles.’

You close your eyes obediently and let yourself enjoy how incredibly weird you feel. You reach your hand over so that you can participate in this hand holding thing he started. It feels nice to stroke his hand with your thumb. Makes you want to touch more of his skin.

You open your eyes again, just a little bit, to see how much you can get away with here. Wait, Dirk can't tell you what to do. You're the boss of him, not the other way around. Your logic machine is not working right now. It had better just be the bloodloss, not all that obviously made up shit on the internet about biting creating a more willing slave.

‘You can't tell me what to do,’ you protest.

‘Alright, whatever. Suit yourself. I didn’t think you enjoyed being all limp and spaced out. I bet you’ll fall asleep anyway.’

You open your eyes wider to be stubborn. You're not sure if you're tired or not, you mostly feel heavy. You're definitely able to resist sleep (even though you don't hate the idea of napping), you're good at that. You don't do it as much as Dirk, because you're not an idiot, but you pull all-nighters to keep Sollux company sometimes. 

You pull his hand closer to you so you can play with it. It's a good strategy for staying awake. His fingers are longer than yours when you press your palms together to compare. He's got a strong heart line, you can thank Peta for the way you know that. And his wrist is really soft when you stroke it with your thumb. 

‘I'm fine,’ you say. You're feeling this is more and more true. Vampire venom is something else.

‘What are you doing?’ he asks.

He raises an interesting question. Interesting because he isn't saying _stop_ and his voice is soft and welcoming, like he’s almost amused. It's strange to hear him when he doesn't sound frustrated or like he's trying to be polite in the moments before he gets frustrated. You don't know that you have a sensible answer for him.

You buy time by touching your finger to each of his freckles. Some are so faint you're not sure if they count as freckles or not. You choose a favourite, at the base of his thumb. Then you realise this is not remotely buying time, this is zoning out. 

‘Reading your palm,’ you say, even though his hand is facing the wrong way for that. You turn it back over. Smooth. ‘Want to know your future?’

‘I didn’t realize you were into that shit,’ he says. You look up and see him shrug. ‘Sure.’

‘Peta was in love with a witch,’ you say dismissively. ‘If it's real, they can't do it for shit, my lines can't have changed every time they tried.’

You squint at his palm, pushing it in to itself so the lines stand out more. Is that cheating? You can't really remember what you're doing.

‘Heart line,’ you say with more confidence than you feel. ‘Aaand it's high, which means you're passionate. And it's uppy, that means something too. Some people go like this.’ You draw a path along his palm with your fingertip. ‘See?’

You show him your hand. You'd probably be able to remember how to do this if you both had the same lines on your hands, you could just tell him whatever Peta used to tell you.

‘I don’t really see how this is supposed to be you telling me my future,’ he says. ‘I’m no expert on this shit though. How exactly do a few lines hold any meaning?’

You rub at your eyes and almost forget how to open them again. You still definitely don't want to sleep though, you're very firm on that. There was a reason. You double down on staring at his hand. 

‘No, okay, it's like ... less future and more you, like, who you are and who you could be. Wait, shit, I need both your hands. Which one do you write with? How do I not know that? Do you know which my hand is? Which hand I use? Dirk, I'm tired.’

You're pretty sure he's the one keeping you awake. You look up at him to see if he's going to let you sleep. Wait, no, he's not the boss of you. You can sleep if you want to. You keep looking at him anyway. Maybe you'll remember why you were staying awake.

He smiles at you and brushes your hair back and out of your face with the hand you haven’t got a hold of. You close your eyes without meaning to at the feeling. 

‘You know, I think you would be better off demonstrating this palm reading shit when you’re not on the verge of passing out. You should probably go ahead and let yourself fall asleep. You aren’t doing yourself any favors by staying awake.’

You can't help it, your eyes are now officially closed for longer than they're open, like some kind of weird reverse blink. The feeling of Dirk stroking your hair makes your scalp tingle where the hair gently pulls and that feels incredibly relaxing. He’s not just moving it out of the way, he’s stroking it and it’s … good.

‘This is all going to be okay,’ you tell him. ‘I'm very good at planning. And I'm very good at holding blood in my body. I do it _all the time_. I'm gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that, stupid magic hands. That's probably on your palms too, has the ability to make Hal melt, will not use this responsibly. I'll write it on if it isn't already, gotta warn for this shit.’

You only remember how to stop talking once you've run out of words, and once that happens you can't seem to do anything but fall asleep. You like that Dirk's still here. Weird.

_Some part of you is aware that you're dreaming, but it is one of the most mundane dreams you've ever had in your life. You're sitting on the couch with Dirk, kicking him teasingly while he tries to work. He doesn't snap at you, though, he's trying not to smile. And that's exactly what you're trying to do, you're trying to make him smile._

_Eventually he gives up and practically drops his laptop to the floor before lunging at you. You tense up automatically, even though you know he won't hurt you as he pins you to the couch and kisses you._

_‘You need to let me work,’ he says, his voice low and supposed to be threatening._

_‘Consider me discouraged,’ you reply, and you can feel yourself grinning wider than you should. You pull him into a kiss._

When you wake up, you are torn between feeling kind of horny and completely freaked out. The fact that he's still with you, close but not touching as he does something on his laptop, helps nothing. You scoot away from him as quickly as you can in your still half-asleep state, running your hands roughly through your hair to wake yourself up properly.

‘Dude, are you alright?’ Dirk asks. 

Not Dirk's fault. Not even your fault. You've been around him too much these last couple days, and in a much too intimate way. And he's your friend-type person anyway. Your brain is taking random shit from your life and feeding it back to you in a different way. Like it's supposed to. That's what dreams are. 

‘Yep,’ you say, not looking at him. You don't want him to be looking after you, you don't want to give your brain any more material. ‘Sorry, should have gone back to my bed. What time is it? We should swap curtains if we have time. I need …’

You need to stop trying to run at normal capacity seconds after you wake up. You fall back on plans when you're stressed. Nothing like a checklist to make you feel more in control. First item on the checklist. Shower. Cold, preferably.

‘I don’t think you were capable of walking, so don’t apologize. It’s not like I was using it anyway,’ he says. ‘It’s 3:21 AM.’  
You glance at him and immediately look away again. Your body does not feel nearly as strongly about leaving as your mind does and he's sitting there all attractive and not helping at all. You wonder if he would push you away if you tried to start something and then kick yourself mentally for even thinking that. 

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ he asks. Stupid sexy voice. Stupid concern.

Sollux multiplies numbers in his head to get rid of his unwanted boners. The combination of thinking about maths and Sollux should be enough to make yours leave. It's probably mostly from waking up. You sit up fully and bring your knees to your chest. This is about as subtle as it was when you were a teenager, but that can't be helped.

‘Yeah, just woke up weird, you say. ‘Okay, thinking now. I need to shower and eat and come up with a plan that has more than two steps. Coffee. Why does thinking have to be hard when you're waking up?’

Dirk shrugs. 

‘Might have something to do with all your mental shit starting back up. Just maybe. You know, you might have an easier time thinking if you just gave yourself a few minutes to wake up instead of jumping straight to pulling plans out of your ass. Most people need some time before they can start acting like functional beings.’

Okay, it's easier to deal with now that he's talking to you in a more normal way. You can probably look at him again. Jesus fucking Christ, when did you start thinking he was beautiful. This is fine. You think Chris Evans is beautiful and everything about him annoys you too, you can deal with this.

‘Most people can go fuck themselves,’ you say. ‘The day they start offering brain upgrades I am there. Get this boot up speed better than a Mac, you'll see.’

You rest your cheek on your knee and plan your supermarket journey down to the aisles you'll take. You kind of want to check to see if you've cured yourself yet, but that would be the quickest way to draw attention to the whole situation and it turns out that thinking about Dirk knowing about the situation is having the opposite effect, so you start thinking about cleaning the drains when you go over the bathroom with bleach, doing the job properly.

‘Are you sure that’ll even happen during your lifetime? Because that’s some pretty fuckin’ advanced shit. Plus, provided that it doesn’t just turn your brain into useless junk or plague you with ads, how the hell are you going to afford something like that? Tech companies don’t care about your weird desire to eradicate your normal human behavior.’

You grin at the way he immediately pokes holes in your stupid comment. Saying impossible things as if you believe them 100% is one of your favourite ways to bait Dirk into leaving you alone. You're pretty sure he believes that you hate the taste of all food and want to only consume bland and preferably beige paste. Saying "yuck, human food" is very funny to you.

He puts his laptop down and you ignore reality mimicking your dream. He had to do that at some point. He rubs the back of his neck and you want to tell him to get a new nervous tic, this one’s too easy to track.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asks.

‘Nope, not doing feelings,’ you say. ‘I'm fine and I'll keep being fine, we've got this under control and I'm not even engaging in your doubt of the completely fine system we've got going on. I made a meal plan, Dirk. I'm so much better at this than anyone else.’

He sighs. It’s a very familiar sound from Dirk, you trigger it a lot.

‘I wasn’t attempting to do anything related to feelings. We’ve done that shit so much lately that I think we’re both permanently nauseous. I’m trying to figure out if I have to worry about you dying after what happened. Hal, you literally pulled one of the stupidest stunts I’ve ever had the misfortune of witnessing. I hardly think you’re better at this than anyone else.’

‘I also don't want to talk about physical feelings,’ you groan. You would get up and leave if you weren't still in perma-boner station. You might anyway, if you move quickly enough maybe he won't be able to tell.

‘Okay, fine. I may have _encouraged_ you to bite me. Twice. But both times worked out fine, I barely even passed out and light comas are absolutely on the menu with what we're dealing with. If that was our worst case scenario, we're doing good. I don't even feel dizzy or cold or any of the things I'm supposed to be watching out for and I'm pretty sure if bloodloss was a thing I was feeling—’

Nope, wow, stopping in the middle of the sentence sure isn't suspicious. Your stupid dick wants to get found out about, but you’re not using it as evidence for how perfectly your blood is functioning.

‘I wouldn't be able to argue so well with you,’ you say. You're so fucking smooth. Why can't all your interactions be over the internet where the backspace button exists and you can proofread your damn thoughts.

‘If you think _encouraging_ me to bite you is acting like an asshole until I want to tear your goddamn throat out, you probably need to familiarize yourself with a dictionary. I didn’t want to do that. I told you minutes before that that I didn’t want to bite you again. I can’t believe you ever thought I was an idiot for fucking vampires. At least I didn’t go around attempting to piss them off to the point that they couldn’t control themselves.’

He frowns and holds his hand up so you can’t argue back.

‘I’m sorry about that, by the way,’ he tells you. ‘I shouldn’t have gotten so pissed off and I definitely shouldn’t have done what I did.’ He looks down. ‘I was scared shitless that you were going to die after that.’

Well shit. You don't like him looking sad. 

‘You have a pretty good excuse,’ you say. ‘The internet would have me believe that most new vampires just go for the nearest human whenever they're hungry, especially if they have any kind of emotional shit going on. I don't know how you have the control you have, but it's fine if you relax it a bit. Your venom is extra potent at the moment to compensate. You're not going to kill me unless you try, I don't think.’

You hesitate, because admitting faults is not a strength of yours.

‘I'm sorry I baited you. I still think you need to come to terms with this because the cost for me is small and you'll actually be a danger to yourself, not to mention the neighbours if you try and resist.’

He looks just about as uncomfortable as you feel.

‘Dude, I don’t think you’ve noticed, but I have the urge to do that at almost every conceivable moment. It’s just harder to handle when I’m hungry. I hid in the closet because I was worried that I was going to jump you the minute I saw you … It’s alright, I guess. Just don’t do it again.’ 

Your eyes drop to his mouth automatically when he says that he is always fighting the urge to bite you. You ignore the swoop of arousal you feel and concentrate on the fact the spectre of your accidental demise instead. It isn’t helped at all when he bites his lip. 

‘What if the cost for you _isn’t_ small one day?’ he asks.

‘I honestly don't think that's going to happen,’ you say. ‘Look, trust the fact that this is coming from me and know that I'm not the kind of guy who would sacrifice his life for _anyone_. I also am not above luring humans back to our lair, hell, I'd jump at the chance to catfish some pedos or whatever, we could go on a vigilante spree.’

You shudder at the thought of Dirk putting his mouth on a criminal, but that’s not the point. The point is you _could_ do that but you don’t need to. Everything is fine.

‘You do know that regardless of whatever you think is going to happen, it’s always possible that you could end up being wrong, right? You could totally end up being wrong in this situation. Things might be all hunky fucking dory for a while, but there’s always the chance that I won’t be able to stop and you’ll be in for a trip to the hospital. Or you’ll be dead, which I would really rather avoid.’ 

He folds his arms over his chest and you mimic him before you realise what you’re doing. Whatever, it’s not as if he holds all the _let’s not kill Hal_ points. You don’t want him to kill you either!

‘You're able to stop and I'm able to punch you in the dick guilt free. Plus we're both single hermits, so going nocturnal isn't going to hurt either of us and if we can't keep it in our damn pants then it isn't the end of the world. This is kind of the ideal arrangement. Tell me I'm wrong.’

‘I can’t believe you feel like you need the excuse of me draining you to punch me in the dick. I thought you were already morally fucked enough to punch dicks as you please.’

'That's why you love me, baby,' you say. He flips you off.

You hold off on telling him again that you're the only one he needs. That sounds weird and possessive even in your head, even though you obviously don't mean it that way. 

You finally feel safe enough to move, so you get up and stretch out the stiffness from you hugging your knees like an idiot. You have the bizarre impulse to kiss him goodbye or something. 

‘I’m going to shower," you say, closing the damn conversation.

‘Save some of the water for me,’ he says.


	6. Chapter 6

You end up setting the shower temperature as cold as you can handle, finding it ridiculous that you got laid so recently and you're _still_ struggling not to jerk off to the thought of Dirk. Has to be vampire bullshit. You haven't held back from thinking about him in the past (you don’t really see the point in policing your fantasies) but it's different now it's actually possible. You're intentionally not making a habit of thinking about him that way. 

You didn't fuck him last time he bit you and if you can keep a clear head maybe you can make that the new normal. At least cold showers are supposed to be good for your skin or something. 

You dry yourself and wrap your towel around you instead of putting on clothes you slept in. Food, more water, passive aggressive sticky note for Dirk about hydrating you if you aren't up to hydrating yourself, then bothering random insomniacs and Australians on the internet. It's good to have a list.

You knock on his door and say, ‘Shower's free,’ before turning back towards your room to get dressed. You're thinking you'll probably keep busy until 10 ish and then head out to get yourself groceries. You guess you can't bother Dirk about splitting the cost anymore. Though, _technically_ he's consuming them second hand?

You cook yourself a real fucking meal like a good blood donor and have the foresight to remember not to drink an entire gallon of water because you doubt vampirism has cured Dirk of his insanely long showers and you don’t need to resort to pissing in the kitchen sink.

When you're done, you print off a second sunrise/sunset calendar and stick it to Dirk's door. And then you stick a bunch of other bullshit of varying helpfulness to it as well. Erotica from hundreds of years ago with strong vampires preying on already fuckin' anaemic women. A "how to treat your slave!" guide that is cheery and accurate despite the repeated use of the word slave. A heavily deep-fried meme that you can't actually read that you will insist is hilarious and judge him for not understanding. A pretend invoice for all the printer ink you're using. A note in sickly sweet polite tones asking him if he wants you to eat something special on the off chance he'll get pizza flavoured blood from you.

By the time you've gotten bored with that activity, you realise that it's actually approaching sunrise and not only is Dirk still in the shower but you haven't swapped curtains again. You might have time, but you'd rather not find out that they're hooked up weirdly and fuck up both rooms. Be kinda funny to force him to sleep in his closet, but not really.

You knock on the bathroom door.

‘Get yourself sorted, dude. You need to get tucked into coffin.’

‘Please don’t tell me that you’re going to be saying shit like that from now on,’ he calls out and you grin. ‘I’ll be out in a minute.’

You leave him to it and drift back into the kitchen, looking in the fridge mostly out of boredom, though you do need to make a grocery list at some point. You close it when you realise you’re just listening to the sounds of the water turning off and the bathroom door opening like a weirdo.

‘Hal, why does my door look like a ten-year-old was let loose on it?’ Dirk says.

You walk over to him to admire your handiwork. It's even better now that you are seeing it as a whole. You probably could have filled in a few more spaces, but the shittiness is part of the charm. 

‘Not allowed in your room,’ you say, as if this was a very rational thing for you to do. Respectful, even. ‘You've got to sleep in my bed again. Curtains, you know.’

He takes a deep breath, which is a strong sign you’ve pissed him off nicely and he doesn’t want that to be the case. God, you love winning. 

‘You know that you didn’t have to do this at all, right,’ he says, his voice monotone. ‘... What the fuck is this even supposed to be?’

You realise that he's naked except for a towel only once you've finished being a smug bastard. You attempt to keep the cool facade you accidentally put up, but it's hard not to peek. And then it's hard not to overcompensate and refuse to look at him. You decide that the safest course of action is to just walk back to your room and wait for a more clothed version of him to come to bed. For sleep.

He doesn’t take long, which is lucky because your sunrise reminder is ticking closer.

‘I thought the plan was to switch curtains, or do you just really like sharing a bedroom that much?’ he says as he lingers in your doorway.

Freshly showered is a good look on Dirk. You stop looking at him so you don't come over with the urge to smell him or something weird like that. 

‘I'll do it tonight. Actually, let me check when the new ones are going to come, if they're coming tomorrow I'd rather not do this more than I have to.’

You open up your emails to find your order confirmation. Shit, missed your chance to snark back about the room-sharing comment. Should have steered into it, faked being so attached to him that it was clear you would much rather have him in his own room.

‘Shit, you’ve already bought curtains? I’ll pay you back.’

He closes your door, and there’s something about it that makes this whole situation feel a million per cent more intimate. It's like your parents made a Pavlovian association in your brain: open door means you can't get up to anything, closed door means you don't want to get caught. You are _not_ taking another cold shower.

‘I told you, I'm in control. But yeah, pay me back. Gets here ... next week. Yeah, I'll swap curtains with you tonight. Much as I obviously super duper love having you konked out a foot away from me while I dick about on the internet.’

You close out of your email and open up the code you and Sollux have been working on. You really should get it to selling quality as soon as possible. If Sollux didn't owe you like a million times over for covering for him during his down swings, he probably would have started pestering you about it. You're supposed to be the consistent one.

‘You’re beginning to give me the impression that you’re a control freak.’ he says. He sits down on the foot of your bed and you make an effort not to look at him too much. ‘And here I thought that you were enjoying our slumber parties.’

‘Want me to braid your hair?’ you say sarcastically. 

‘I doubt that you really know how to braid hair,’ he says, as if you’d made a sincere offer. Damn, he’s good. ‘I think mine is still too wet to do anything with right now, anyway.’

‘I know how to tell …’ Oh, holy fuck. You had been about to offer to tell him his future and talk about boys but you already did that last night. Never mind risk of hospitalisation, you made an absolute dick of yourself. 

‘Jesus Christ, okay, I _had_ repressed my idiocy last night but apparently you already know I can read palms. Except I don't think I even followed through with it.’

You find a spot on your desk to drop your forehead roughly to and decide that you're never going to leave this spot. You're surprised that Dirk didn't kick you out for being weird and stupid. Except that if he made a habit of doing that then you would never be in the same room as him. Oh wait, that's exactly what your relationship is supposed to be.

‘I wouldn’t call it idiocy. You were tripping balls. You acted about how I would expect you to in that condition.’ He pauses. ‘You... kind of followed through with it? You told me something about heart lines and passion, but I think you were past the point of being able to explain things efficiently. You forgot which hand is your dominant one. Then you fell asleep after rambling some more.’

‘Left handed,’ you groan into your desk. You wave your left hand ironically to demonstrate that you do indeed know this. 

‘Are you sure?’ he teases. 

‘It's bullshit, anyway. I got big brother points for offering my hands to Peta for practice.’

You roll your head to peek at his reaction. He doesn't sound nearly as judgemental as he should. You really think he should sound judgemental. Not ... happy? That's not quite right, but he certainly isn't looking like he hated the experience or like he agrees with your excellent idea to never speak again, especially not when you've been bitten into an altered state of consciousness.

‘You know, it wasn’t that bad. Hanging with your loopy ass was actually kind of fun. I don’t think your calling in life is conducting palm readings while you’re high as fuck, though.’

You can't help smile, if only at his tone, but with any luck that'll be hidden by the desk. You're being stupid. Of course you were more chatty and open when you were high, did you really think that you would be immune to that?

‘My mother will be devastated that I'm changing career paths again. Thought we were onto a winner with palmistry there.’

You get yourself upright and ignore the barrage of messages you coming online has triggered from Sollux. It's like 6am, so unless he's fucked up his sleep schedule again they're all old and can be dealt with later.

‘I can show you what it's supposed to look like, though. If you're a fan of hearing vague statements that could just as easily apply to almost anyone else in the world.’

‘I gotta say, I have been wondering about the quality of your palm readings when vampire bullshit isn’t playing a huge role in your abilities. I’m down if you are.’

You consider dragging your desk chair closer to him to do this, but that would be a waste of slumber party aesthetic. You probably shouldn't be looking for excuses to touch him, if anything you should be avoiding physical contact to make up for the intimacy of the bites, but on the other hand, maybe if you get a bit more used to innocent touches the bit ones won't feel like such a big deal. Sure would be nice if you could touch him without getting a boner.

You climb onto the bed and sit with your legs crossed and hold your hands out for his. You wonder if Peta will send you their tarot cards if you ask. Or you could _not_ plan future activities together.

‘I’m left handed too, by the way. You seemed to think it was important earlier.’

He looks awkward now that you’re actually following through, but you almost feel casual accepting his hands when he drops them into yours. This is something you've done an embarrassingly huge amount of times. 

But something very not-casual happens to your stomach when you take hold of him properly. Anyone would think you were a teenager with a crush. You need to look up how much of this you can blame on his vampire venom. You didn't see anything about it when you were researching before. 

‘It is. Your left hand is who you are now, because you use it more. Your right hand is your ... innate self? Inherited? Like, who you were born as. If there's a big difference, it means you're now different to your basic nature, usually because you've worked at it.’ You look up at him, eyebrow raised. ‘Kinda like how your hands have weirdly different lines.’

‘Makes sense, I guess,’ he says, nodding. ‘I’m offended that you think my hands’ lines are weirdly different. I was under the impression that this was a judgment free zone, Hal.’

You smirk at his completely pretend outrage and release his left hand to fall into his lap so that you can trace the lines on his right with your finger. His skin is soft and cool. It's worth touching. 

‘Both your heart lines are high, which means you're passionate by nature and you haven't changed that part of yourself. You _do_ have more splinters on your right, which means that you were destined for a lot of heartbreak but somehow you've changed that. Interpret that how you will.’

You bite your tongue against telling him it's because he's obviously met his soulmate in you. It's less funny now you aren't actively trying to be a dick to him at every opportunity.

‘You mentioned the passion thing before. You just didn’t know which hand you were looking at. Maybe you aren’t as bad as I thought at palm reading when you’re high,’ he says.

You trace his life line idly because he looks like he’s taking you seriously and Peta always said that the most important part of fortune telling was to let them tell you their fortune themselves. Sneaky, but you like that about this crap.

‘What about your hands?’ he asks. ‘If you’re done with mine, that is.’

You look up at him for a beat and then back at your hands. You practically know your own reading by heart, but you're not done with him yet. It has nothing to do with the fact that you don’t need to touch him to show him yours.

‘In a minute,’ you say. ‘This is your head line, and it goes all the way across on here, right, which means that you're logical.’ You pick up his other hand again and rest it palm up on your knee so you can actually see it. 

‘Right, and here's another change because this one curves down which means you're creative. And for some reason of course it's one or the other. Then we've got your life line which is really about your attitude towards life rather than your actual life and yours are pretty deep so you care about what you get out of life. And I actually can't even see your fate lines, hold up.’

You fold his hand in on itself so the lines pop out. This is probably cheating.

‘So you hate your job, right? Because obviously fate equals career. I'm sorry I don't have any tea or whatever to give you to complete the experience.’

‘I think I can forgive you, but I’ll always remember your failure to set the mood properly. I can’t believe you don’t have any tea. That was the whole reason why I agreed to this. Are you gonna spill the details about your own hands now?’

You roll your eyes as if you showing him your palms is somehow inconvenient. It isn't. You don't hate the excuse to linger, either. You release his hand and put yours in it before he can take it away. Completely unnecessary, really. But you've done it now.

‘Okay, so my heart lines aren't as high as yours but I'm still a respectably passionate person, no surprises there. I also have these ones going along it, see, here,’ you point at the cracks in your palm that are more pronounced than Dirk's comparatively smooth one, ‘that apparently mean I have a wandering eye.’ You wink, exaggerating the gesture. You haven't ever stayed with anyone long enough to cheat on them, so that's a bit ridiculous. 

‘Oh, right, so my palms are basically mirror images of each other, too, so I'm consistent as fuck. Or I refuse to grow and change as a person, which, you know, why change perfection? My head one goes almost all the way across, so I'm disgustingly logical, which is annoyingly true. And my life line's pretty unremarkable, but I have very strong fate lines compared to the other three fools who have let me look at their damn hands and you. So, I'm gonna stick with shit ‘til the end.’

You look up at him to see what he thinks of your totally professional reading. He's still holding your hand, but you guess that's fine. Maybe he wants to see for himself. He lets go and you kind of wish he hadn’t. 

‘Man, I wish I had thought to check your hands when we started doing this roommate shit. At least I would have had a little bit of warning about what I was getting into,’ he says. ‘That was a great slumber party activity, but I’m still disappointed by the lack of tea.’

You open your mouth to ask him if he can even drink tea anymore, but something about his expression makes you change your mind. You kind of don't want to piss on his fun. Not that this is grade A level fun, but it's still just normal hanging out stuff, like you would with a friend. A change of pace from life or death. 

‘I know, and my standards are higher than this too. I think that's the final nail in the palmistry career coffin, I can't get the fucking atmosphere right at all. Though if I start lighting candles you have my permission to slap me. And if there's a second Hal running round at the same time, kill the one with the candles. That's the clone. We don't want to see what an evil version of me would look like.’

You're not holding hands anymore (not like it was real hand holding, it was for a reason, it doesn't count like that) but your knees are a breath away from touching. Maybe you should be moving back to your desk. For some reason you don't.

‘Fuck, I thought this _was_ the evil version of you. Don’t tell me that it’s possible for you to get eviler.’

You grin at him wickedly. You're hamming up the villainous thing for a guy who is too much of a square to even get drunk.

‘I'd still want you to kill the clone if I was the evil one. Good Hal would be so boring.’

You can't help but think about what you would do if you were really evil. The kind of sexy, self-assured evil from the movies. You're pretty sure evil Hal would make Dirk sleep in his closet rather than your bed. Or better yet, demand retribution for it. _Yeah, you can sleep here. If you're my bitch._

Wow, the first thing that comes to mind is fucking Dirk again. You need a fucking hobby.

‘Hey, I never agreed to kill any of your clones. I’m not going to prison just because you don’t like alternate versions of yourself that have weird candle fixations or fall on the opposite side of wherever you are on the evil scale. You’re just going to have to live with however many clones you have out there.’ You like the way he goes along with you. You grin at him.

‘Is palmistry the only slumber party activity you planned for this?’ he asks. 

You’re not quite sure why you’re both pretending this is a normal thing for you to be doing. You guess it’s less horrible than reality right now. You don’t want to be thinking about what the future really has in store for Dirk or about how far you’re willing to go to help him, or anything, really.

You reach up and feel a strand of his hair between your fingers. It feels clean, like he washed it, so you're not braiding this even if it was long enough. You think you could probably make do with this length if it wasn't going to slip out of the braid while you were still doing it.

Then you realise that you've just reached up and caressed his hair with zero explanation. Wow, you're on a roll this morning.

‘Looks like hair braiding is off the menu,’ you tell him. ‘If Peta was here we would have to discuss every one of all of our friends and their romantic possibilities, not even joking, but they're not so we're relieved of that.’

He grimaces, like that’s the worst thing you could have come up with. ‘Is that what other people do at sleepovers?’

You shrug. ‘Are you not feeling magically tired because the sun's up though?’ you ask.

‘Just because I got my neck chewed on doesn’t mean I’m no longer an insomniac.’

You guess that makes sense. And at least he doesn't have to be lying awake in a literal coffin. But the stupid part of your brain that's gotten kinda used to taking care of him wants to keep doing that. You're going to firmly tell that part of your brain to shut the fuck up. It's none of your business if he sleeps or not. You can pass off his eating habits as your business now, but sleeping definitely isn't. 

‘We could watch a movie?’ you say. ‘You know, traditional sleepover shit. Like _Legally Blonde_ , I think I've seen _Legally Blonde_ at least 20 times, it's still gold. Or a movie I won't shed manful tears of admiration in.’

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen it,’ he says. ‘I’m down with it though. It’s gotta be decent if you’ve watched it that many times. Or you’re just fuckin’ weird as hell and have too much time on your hands. I’m thinking it’s a combination of the two.’

You look at him with exaggerated horror. You guess most dudes don't exactly seek out chick flicks if they aren't put on in their proximity, but you've watched this particular movie solo plenty of times. Elle Woods is just so spunky. 

‘Well that needs to be corrected. I usually just turn my monitor towards the bed for movies, unless you have a better idea?’

‘I’m pretty sure it’s not the end of the world if I haven’t seen _Legally Blonde_. Civilization isn’t going to crumble because one dude hasn’t seen it.’

You get off the bed and sit at your desk as he fake-outrage responds to your own fake-outrage, closing your messages and other shit without reading them. Everything else can wait a couple of hours. No one would expect you to be awake at this time in the morning anyway, might as well watch a beloved movie.

You turn your monitor to the side and climb back onto your bed. Your instinct is to lie down like you do every time you watch a movie in bed, but that's not really compatible with watching it together. You grab your pillow and put it behind your back before sitting against the wall.

The angle isn't quite right, because you're like a foot and a half higher than you usually are when you're doing this, so you grab a book sitting on your desk and shove it under your monitor. You have the wild impulse to hold your arm out for Dirk to cuddle into you but you keep yourself to your damn self. 

‘You ready for this?’ you ask. ‘Oh shit, I've seen this a billion times and I talk during movies anyway, is that going to piss you off?’

‘I figured you would probably talk through it no matter what. Movies with commentary are better anyway.’

He’s gonna regret saying that. But at least you don’t mind bothering him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk and Hal watch a movie. Hal is trying to act normally, but hanging out without fighting isn't actually their normal. He doesn't _like_ Dirk, does he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only in fanfiction will you find the author so shamelessly using fiction in order to give their opinions on 00s chick-flicks. I'm barely ashamed of how self indulgent this is because _I'm right_.

_Legally Blonde_ is one of the greatest movies of all time and you’ll defend that statement to the fucking death if you have to. You smile at Dirk in anticipation before you realise that's not a thing you do. He looks away quickly, presumably to spare your pride.

‘God I love this movie,’ you say, focusing back on the screen. ‘Look at how fucking supportive her friends are. This is like the opposite of every other sorority or fraternity movie there is, it's so fucking wholesome.’ 

‘It does seem pretty damn wholesome. Why does the movie industry portray sororities and fraternities as organizations full of petty alcoholics anyway? It’s almost painfully inaccurate.’

‘Right?’ you say. ‘There's a reason they say you keep your college friends for life and it isn't because they traumatise you into having Stockholm Syndrome.’

Warner comes onto the screen looking delicious in a suit and you lean your head onto Dirk's shoulder in a mock swoon. Never mind the fact that this just puts your face up close and personal with how amazing Dirk smells. You're pretending you feel nothing. You focus on Elle's tragically hopeless male lead. He's a total scumbag and he deserves to be slapped, but also you'd totally be up for making that a sexy slap. 

‘God, I'm gay,’ you say. ‘I want to make that man cry.’

‘Hal, your taste in men is mediocre at best.’

‘Self burn,’ you laugh as you straighten up more respectably. 

‘What,’ Dirk says.

Oh shit. What did you just say. You just implied that you like Dirk. Oh fucking hell. You stare at the monitor while you freak out about how to cover. You don't think you can. That was pretty fucking unambiguous of you.

‘I don't want to have normal sex with him,’ you say, hoping if you change the subject it will help. ‘I want to fuck him until he cries and admits he's not good enough for me or Elle. And then I want to get ice cream with Elle and wear out the hand I haven't already broken slapping that dude just high-fiving her continuously for an hour.’

It works, thank fuck. He’s clearly distracted. You’ve said enough stupid shit to make disagreeing with you more important than following up on … that.

‘He’s not even worth the sex at all, though, just look at him,’ Dirk says, his voice incredulous. ‘He’s radiating this blatant “I send unprompted dick pics to people” aura and he looks like the suburban equivalent of an incel. He’s _bland_. I feel bad for your dick if that’s what turns you on. I also feel bad for your hands if you’re that intent on breaking them.’

You nod your agreement of Dirk's description. He does look like a bland asshole. It just happens that if you only slept with people you liked you probably would have sex a lot less. There's more than one kind of chemistry. (It's still throwing you off that apparently you have the nice kind with Dirk. You like hate-sex, but that's not what you did with him.) 

‘Exactly, _and_ he has smarmy early 2000s romcom lead aura like he's so unambiguously straight that he has sidekicks instead of friends. He'd look at me and think “that dude has the ass of a chick,” and I'd play along like he could have one night of “experimenting” where really he just got to do anal like all the rich girls he usually talks to won't let him and then I'd top him so well he'd follow me around just as pathetically as he's currently following Elle. _God_ , don't call her Pooh Bear now you asshole, you just dumped her.’ You look at Dirk briefly. ‘Do you _not_ get rage boners sometimes?'

‘I don’t get rage boners for assholes who look like that,’ he informs you. ‘I have absolutely no desire to fuck him out of hate. He doesn’t even look fun to fuck. He looks like he’d be absolutely miserable to deal with. He’d probably whine the whole goddamn time. What’s the point in wasting your time and lube on that? Besides, I’m more inclined to punch the people I hate than I am to get in their pants.’

Dirk seems to watch movies with the exact same amount of tension that he does everything else, not that that's particularly surprising. Or maybe it's this particular line of conversation that’s making him sit up as straight as if he thinks there’s going to be a test. Which would be dumb, considering the fact that you've definitely talked more vulgarly than this around him and you've literally slept with him.

‘Glad to be the exception,’ you tell him. 

Or maybe that's why he's tense, because you've never exactly hung out with dudes you've slept with after. It makes sense to you to not make a huge deal out of it, especially because you're not sure if it's going to happen again or not. But then why would you expect Dirk to be chill? He's never been chill in his life. You feel like you should say something that isn't half a joke about it, but you have no idea what.

‘I don’t hate you,’ he says, sounding kind of surprised. ‘I mean, you’re an insufferable douchebag most of the time and you can be a huge pain in the ass, and I know I do that too, but that doesn’t mean I hate you. I didn’t interpret ... earlier as hate fucking.’

You keep your eyes firmly on the screen as you figure out how you want to play this. You can't quite bring yourself to lie and say you did interpret things that way or that you hate him. If you lied about it then you'd be lying about your feelings and that feels a whole lot more intense than just playing it straight. You don't have _feelings_ feelings to lie about but still. You're just going to have to keep being casual. Because that's what you are. Casual.

‘Well damn, I don't hate you either,’ you say. ‘And no, it wasn’t hate fucking was it? I'm not taking that off the table though, even though I don't hate you. Last night was hot 'til my stupid body couldn't keep up with my dick.’

‘I screwed up last night,’ he says. ‘I would really rather not worry about potentially killing you for the sole purpose of having angry sex.’

‘Shh, no, look, she's about to run into Dickface at Harvard,’ you say, swatting at Dirk to get him to stop talking for a second so you can appreciate the majesty of the 'What, like it's hard?' line. When she's said it and walked away in all her beautiful pink glory you realise that you left your hand on Dirk's chest as you shushed him and you remove it.

You hadn't realised you were at the point where you could touch him so casually. It's making you more conscious of the fact that you're sitting pretty close together so you can both see the monitor and that you really want to touch him again. You kind of want to hold his hand. You have no idea what to do with that particular feeling. It’s not one you’re familiar with.

‘Okay, talking is allowed again,’ you say. ‘I fucking love this movie.’

‘No shit,’ he says. ‘You just groped my chest for a good minute to keep me quiet.’

You refuse to be embarrassed about either your impeccable taste in movies or your questionable taste in shushing strategies. Though it did work. You're not going to point that out.

‘I have seen this a million times, maybe I was making a move,’ you say, because of course your default is to play gay chicken. You realise that doesn't work anymore about halfway through your sentence. That's really going to limit the number of ways you can annoy Dirk.

‘Joking,’ you say, in case that wasn't clear. ‘Obviously I'd go for the hole in the bottom of the popcorn trick.’

‘Jesus, at least keep manners in mind if you’re going to do that. Some people consider it rude to just grab their meat out of nowhere.’

You grin at him. You like the way he rolls with your bullshit. He always has, really, until you've pushed too far. Maybe if you'd given him a chance to warm up to you before you started testing how easily you could piss him off you would have been friendly before this. It's not exactly like he could ever get any kind of significant break from you. And vice versa, though you've learned to work around the habits you initially couldn't stand. 

‘Okay, Casanova, what are your moves during Netflix and chill if you look down on the classics?’

‘Deep discussions about the plot of Shrek, obviously. Makes the boners pop like fireworks.’

You swear his eyes go to your lips for a second and you get that rush of adrenaline that comes when you're not sure if you're about to be kissed, but then he's not doing anything out of the ordinary after all, he's just talking shit. You observe that you feel disappointed with a layer of detachment. You shouldn't want watching a movie together to turn into a makeout session or more. 

You're going to get on your best behaviour. This is enough flirting, enough touching him. You're going to be normal for the rest of the movie. You give a little snort of amusement for his Shrek joke and then move the fuck away from that topic. 

‘Okay so this girl seems like a bitch now but I swear at the end she and Elle should end up together. It's the secret lesbian ending that you just know they wanted to film. Look at them, attracted to Warner for not wanting to make him cry reasons because he's the kind of guy they “should” be attracted to and then both of them so hyper-focused on each other when at college you don't form rivalries, you just do your damn work.’

He watches the rest of the scene before he comments, like he’s taking you seriously. 

‘Yeah, you’re right. Directors are cowards as far as filming anything outside of social expectations goes. The most unrealistic thing is these two actually finding him attractive in a romantic way. Not only is he objectively dull in appearance and has a garbage personality, but the lesbian subtext is obvious as hell.’

You can't help it, you lean into him just for a moment. You're lucky you didn't fucking _hug_ him—you want to. He's letting you talk and not just humouring you, he _agrees_ with you. 

‘Fuck yes, you get it,’ you say. ‘The only flaw in an otherwise flawless movie. There's always fanfiction.’

‘So is that what you do all day when you’re being reclusive? You stay in your room and read _Legally Blonde_ fanfiction?’

‘Look who's calling who a recluse,’ you say.

‘Hey, I come out of my room and socialize more often than you. I’m not nearly as reclusive as you are. I’m practically the world’s biggest extrovert in comparison to you.’

It's getting harder and harder to sit up neutrally. You didn't actually sleep through the night, and you probably have a blood loss related sleep deficiency going anyway. It might not even be that, it might just be that you usually lie down for movies and you're not right now. You wonder if Dirk would be cool with you just resting your head on him. That wouldn't be too much, right?

You put your hand on his chest again to stop him from talking long enough to mouth a line along with Elle. He shakes his head in your peripherals, but you ignore him and let him go again.

‘Your palms must be right about you being passionate, at least when it comes to this movie,’ he mutters. 

‘I haven't watched this in a while, I think I've got nostalgia enthusiasm. That and you haven't told me to shut up yet.’

‘Didn’t I tell you that movies are better with commentary? Because I’m pretty sure that I did. I’m not going to tell you to shut up unless you say something particularly idiotic.’

He means it. You have no idea what to do with the rush of good feelings this gives you.

‘Okay, that's it, you're my new movie buddy. I don't make the rules except that yes, I do, it's my town and I absolutely do. As mayor, I assign you rank of pillow.’

You fall dramatically onto his shoulder as if that will make the fact that you're cuddling up to him less soft. You're pretending as hard as you can that this is nothing to you, that you're just using Dirk as a soft surface or something, but it's hard to feel anything close to casual. You're so tense it almost hurts your stomach, ready to back the fuck off and pretend you were joking if he protests.

He's not exactly leaning into you but he's not telling you to stop either. You think he's probably just awkward, like, as a person. 

‘You do realize that you could have just asked to make yourself at home on my shoulder, right? I could have tidied things up in advance. I haven’t even dusted, Hal.’

Okay, that’s not him saying no. You shift yourself into a more comfortable position, hoping that will relieve some of the tension. At the very least it'll be better than just fucking slamming your face onto him and hoping for the best.

‘Fucking disgraceful, that's what this is,’ you say. ‘Don't you know that a good Texan home is always ready for guests? I'm staying, but you're on thin fucking ice.’

God he smells good. Your heart is still way too fast for this, you're just leaning on the guy. You want to nuzzle into him. No you don't. You want to watch the damn movie.

‘Shit, I’m sorry. To be fair though, you did drop out of nowhere. I wasn’t expecting any guests. You know that it’s rude to show up unannounced, right? It’s in the Texan Commandments.’

‘Mmm that's true, should’ve called first.’

He's leaning more into you which is making you feel like you're allowed to be here. It makes you relax more. It makes you feel comfortable moving your head up further on his shoulder until your forehead's almost touching his neck. You're tempted to kiss the skin you can reach exposed by the collar of his shirt but that would be just about the opposite of casual.

‘This movie always makes me want to go get my nails done and play therapist for the salon girl,’ you say. ‘They're _always_ in the market for a stranger to solve their boyfriend problems.’

‘Go do it, then,’ he says. ‘It’s a win-win situation for the salon girl and your nails. Just don’t pick out a shitty color.’

‘Thoughts on red? Clear coat's for pussies.’

‘It’s a waste of money to get a clear coat at the salon. Or a nude. What the hell is the point in making nails look slightly less bland than they usually are? That shit needs to be handled creatively. Seeing people get boring shit like that is almost physically painful.’ He pauses, as if he needs time to assess red in particular and you can’t help but smile to yourself. ‘It’s not a clear coat, so I don’t see why not. Get your nails painted as red as Satan’s asshole.’

This is infinitely better than just sitting next to each other. This is how you want to sit now, you live in the same place, you're just going to use Dirk as your personal pillow. He's strong and soft and maybe not as warm as you are but better than anything else you could rest against. 

Fuck. You're catching feelings. 

Your automatic response is to tense up, but you're not going to do that. You breathe normally so you can look at this in a rational way without alerting Dirk to the fact that something's wrong. Nothing's wrong. You've caught this early. Okay, when did this start. 

Was it when you had sex? You felt _really_ intense about that. But that was the venom, right? Okay, maybe it was looking after him when he was bleeding out. Fuck, that may have been a bit more than standard roommate shit. Was it _before_ this? No, you've caught this early, haven't you? Oh shit, no, you cannot seriously be thinking that you've been pulling his metaphorical pigtails this whole time without being aware of it. That's fucking insane.

Shit. When the _fuck_ did this happen? You're not quite sure whether you want to pretend like nothing is wrong, pick a fight or kiss him. You're going to at least buy more time by talking shit.

‘I went almost a whole year with black nails with red french tips. And eyeliner. No regrets, I looked hot as fuck as a pretend goth.’

He puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. 

‘You were a _pretend_ goth?’ he asks incredulously. ‘As a former goth, I’m shocked and offended. Traumatized, even. You do realize that that’s cultural appropriation, right?’

You used to have a million things about Dirk that you hated. You know this, because you've told him what most of them were. You can't fucking remember at the moment. If you asked him would that put some distance between you? Shit, you don't even want that, the thought of ruining this movie and cuddle thing is fucking heartbreaking.

You just need to keep talking.

‘Further proof for the gay storyline, by the way, Vivian is making major eyes at Elle. And in like five minutes she's going to get _way_ too offended by the possibility of Elle sleeping to the top for “just a friend”.’

‘They should just make a sequel or a remake that throws out the compulsive heterosexuality in favor of their relationship. All they would have to do is transfer one of your fanfictions to movie format.’

‘Oh, I can't write it, I only read and judge. If I tried to write fanfiction it would turn out as a text based adventure game. Which, actually sounds pretty fucking awesome, I'd play the shit out of a _Legally Blonde_ game that was actually good. 

‘Damn. I was under the impression that you were sitting on years worth of _Legally Blonde_ fanfiction. The game _does_ seem more like your style, though. There’s more room in that for you to be a sarcastic dick and to monologue about how you want to fuck the bland dude until he cries.’ 

‘Also, most of the fans actually like Elle with Emmett. Which I get, he's a sweetheart. _Not_ my type.’

Dirk shakes his head.

‘Of _course_ he’s not your type. He’s not _hot_ , but at least he actually looks like he’s fuckable, whereas the other dude seems as dry as a saltine cracker.’

No, apparently your type is Dirk. No, it's _not_. He's hot, sure, there's a traitor part of your brain that is counting down to the next time he has to bite you so that you have an excuse to sleep with him again, but that's just chemistry, that doesn't have to mean anything. And you're enjoying being around him for now, but that's just because he's funny and strangely nice and a good cuddler.

Nope, this is not an option. You're not even going to listen to yourself anymore, apparently you've lost your goddamn mind. You're going to watch the rest of the movie and then leave. You're going to do it nicely because you need to have a better feeding strategy than cutting yourself or pissing him off, but you're just going to have to leave the house for a bit, get your damn thoughts in order.

Of course, it's fine to keep cuddling for now. It's not going to make anything worse and it's more comfortable than how you were sitting before. You’re such an idiot.

This is ridiculous. You're snuggling up to him like a God damn koala bear and he's just leaning into you like he's only passively engaged in this whole thing. Nope, you need him to be just as entrenched in this as you are. You grab his wrist and drag it around your shoulder, shifting a little closer. 

No big deal. Just comfier. That's your line and you're sticking to it. You know, if you're questioned about it. 

‘So maybe the solution is to make the outcome of the movie less monogamous,’ he says.

‘Are you suggesting a big poly mess? Because I am on _board_. Give me a full on community of lawyers just in this crazy, happy found family with sex. I'd _watch_ Emmett have sex even if I wouldn't do him myself. God he's dull. I don't even think he would be hotter if he cried. Do not get thinking you can cry in front of me and I'll drop trow, by the way. This is an exclusively bland straight dude fantasy, hot gay dudes need not apply. I mean, let's not throw out the idea entirely. You can cry for me if you want. Yeah actually, Dirk, go ahead and cry a bit, let's see if it gets me off.’

Dirk predictably tenses right the fuck up.

‘I’m not fucking crying in front of you. Why the hell do you have a crying kink anyway?’

He's exactly as outraged as you'd hoped. You're really glad that you can still flirt with him and get this kind of reaction. You didn't want to give that up. You glance up at him and have to look away quickly before your face does something completely sappy. He's really cute with a blush. You've definitely noticed this before. It's just a lot more intense when you're also cuddled so close. 

‘Control thing, I think. It's a hell of a power imbalance to have someone crying and dependant on you. I'm not exactly overpowering people any other way.’ You gesture at your general smallness. 

Though Dirk isn't a lot taller or broader than you. You could probably ... except that he's a vampire now with vampire strength. So, no. Unless you convinced him to let you tie him up. Jesus, you need to focus on the movie. That's a mental image for another time.

‘I think making someone cry for sexual reasons would just make me feel like a fuckin’ asshole, frankly. And you know that size doesn’t mean jack shit, right? Twinks can be surprisingly overpowering. Plus, I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but there’s not that much of a size difference between us and I am perfectly capable of being overpowering. There’s still hope for you. Or you could try working out, but I think you’re too reclusive for that.’ 

It's perhaps your favourite part of the movie, the bit where Elle takes over as lawyer and fucking owns it, but you've never been less interested in anything because there's no way you can just let that go. You make a token attempt to calm yourself down, but you've been on the edge of turned on just from being close to Dirk this whole time and competitiveness is a weak spot for you.

You don't give him any warning before you push him down to the bed, straddle his hips and hold his wrists on either side of his head. He probably is stronger than you, but you didn't give him a chance to expect anything and it's hard to move from this position. 

‘I think I can make do, yeah,’ you say. 

You should just let him up. You've proven your point and you should just let him up now. Instead you lean down and kiss him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal doesn't have vampire venom to excuse this. His only defense at this point is that he's not in the business of denying himself what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is porn right from the start, see end notes for phrase to skip to if that's your thing. :)

Dirk presses up against you and kisses back and if you were feeling kind of doubtful about whether you were allowed to do this, you very much aren't anymore. You bite at his bottom lip and tighten your grip on his wrists. 

His lips feels so good against yours, especially once you get your tongue in his mouth. He tastes faintly of toothpaste. You moan quietly against him as you lean more of your weight on him, keeping him firmly trapped under you.

This is so much stupider than the other shit you've pulled recently. Baiting a vampire has nothing on the way you're fucking up all your boundaries like this. Instead of stopping, you drag your hips slowly forward, grinding your dick against his.

He moans into your mouth and cants his hips up, increasing the friction even more. It’s amazing how quickly you’ve gotten him on board with this, how good it feels to have him trapped and _wanting_ to be trapped underneath you. 

He turns his head to break the kiss and you move easily to his neck, licking your lips on the way as if you can taste the tingles his teeth left on them. 

‘You should let go of me,’ he says lowly.

You breathe a small laugh at his request and nudge his head even more to the side so you can suck roughly at his neck. You like being so firmly on top. You know his hands would feel amazing on you and you want to touch him as well, but you're not giving this up, not so soon.

‘Ask nicely and I'll consider it,’ you murmur against his neck. 

You choose a new spot on his neck and bite him. 

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he gasps. He's not flinching away even though you're not being as gentle as you should be. You love the noises he makes, the way he's meeting your grinds with his hips, he feels fucking incredible. 

You both need to be wearing fewer clothes, but you'll get to that once you've gotten over the rush of holding him down. You thread your fingers with his and even this comparatively innocent touch has you shivering with want because his skin is soft against yours and you want every part of you tangled that close to him. He squeezes your hands right back.

‘You know I’m not going to ask nicely,” he mutters.

You lick the indent you've made with your teeth. The skin inside the bite is already red. You're going to do it again. He's so responsive to this, it makes you wonder if you can get him off just by biting and sucking his neck. The mental image of him struggling to get more friction from you as you focus entirely on his neck is hot enough that you groan into his skin. 

‘I think you are,’ you tell him. You're breathing heavy and your words aren't coming out smoothly, but you don't really care. ‘I'm not letting you up until you do. Maybe I won't even if you beg me, you're hot as fuck like this.’

‘You’re wasting your time,’ Dirk says. ‘I don’t beg.’

Why is his stubbornness so sexy to you? You want to prove him wrong so badly but it wouldn't be nearly as fun if he wasn't resisting. You're going to make him beg. It's hotter if he can't help it.

The fabric of your sweats is thin enough that you can feel Dirk's dick against yours as you grind and you want more. You're teasing your damn self with this just as much as Dirk but it's worth it. He really is gorgeous underneath you, all desperate with your bite marks all over him.

‘I can’t believe _Legally Blonde_ really turns you on this much,’ he jokes weakly.

You're pretty much at your limit for what you can do to him without your hands, but you can still talk.

‘Not the movie,’ you say, as if he was being even remotely serious. ‘You. _Fuck_ , Dirk, you're impossible to resist.’ You suck his earlobe lightly and he lets out a muffled whine. ‘I want you so bad, it's almost enough to make me want to let you go. Beg for me, Dirk, beg so I can bite the rest of you as well.’

‘You’re just going to have to cave in, because I’m sure as hell not begging,’ he insists.

You release his fingers so you can run your hands down his wrists and over his forearms. When he tries to get free you push him harder into the mattress before stroking back up to his hands. You like the way he grabs at you because he knows that's the only thing he can touch.

‘Hal,’ he moans. And then, so quietly you can’t be sure he really says it, ‘ _Ple_ —’

You think you'd do anything to make him say your name like that again. You can't not touch him but you don't want to let him go. Not when you've insisted you're strong on this point. You want him to beg _properly_ , to be so desperate he can't even think about his pride.

You pull his wrists up above his head and transfer them both to your stronger left hand. You stroke down his face and pull his chin towards you for another kiss, absolutely showing off that you have more freedom than him. 

You grab the collar of his shirt and tug him fiercely to you. You should have done this earlier. Being able to touch him while he can't touch you is fucking amazing. You need him tied up properly sometime.

He’s literally quivering now. You’ve stopped grinding against him and his hips are desperately trying to make up the difference. You don’t think you’ve been this turned on while fully clothed ever.

‘Hal, _please_ ,’ he pants. ‘I want to touch you.’

You grin against his lips. He's so fucking perfect. You bite him one last time, high up on his neck, almost on his jaw. 

‘God you're fun to tease,’ you tell him. 

You let go of his shirt and brace your hand next to his head, kissing him one last time before you let him go. You love the feeling of him squirming so beautifully underneath you, you'd love to drag this out even longer, but you want to see if he is even handsier than last time after being kept from touching more. 

You stroke down his arm like you did earlier, leaving his wrists free as you trace imaginary patterns in his skin.

He uses his freedom to cup your cheek with his hand and drag you into a kiss, his fingers lingering on your face in a way that makes your heart do something nervous and squeezy until he drops his hands to get them under your shirt, one hand flat against your stomach and the other dragging against your back. 

He kisses and bites and sucks at your neck with great enthusiasm as his fingers curl against your stomach and travel lower and you are not being discouraged from getting him worked up at all.

His hand slip below your waistband to squeeze your cock while you’re still trying to catch up with how fast he’s moving. 

The arm holding you up wobbles violently as you moan. His mouth on your neck feels amazing as you struggle to keep your your brain in one piece. 

‘You’re a dick,’ he murmurs against your collarbone, his voice soft and breathy.

‘You're fucking fantastic,’ you reply. 

You sit up and away from him so you can pull your shirt off and throw it off the bed. You lean back down immediately, pushing his shirt up to his armpits so you can touch more of him. You've gone from keeping his hands off you to unwilling to part with them even for the amount of time it would take to get rid of his shirt.

He yanks it off and away though, which is probably smart. He grabs you around the neck and drags you down to kiss again, palming at your dick through your pants this time.

You roll off him onto your side, pulling him with you so you can keep kissing him as you shove your pants down. It would be easier if you were willing to take a three second break, but you're really not. 

You tug at his pants too, severely getting in your own way when you get distracted by groping his ass instead. You did _not_ spend enough time doing this last time, holy fuck. You would need days to properly appreciate an ass like this. 

‘Fuck, Dirk,’ you groan, pulling him closer to you. His dick rubs against yours and you pull him again to grind together. You need to get his pants the rest of the way off but it's hard to focus on anything when he feels so amazing.

‘I think that’s the idea,’ he says. 

He pauses briefly to kick his pants off and then comes right back to kiss you, pressing his hips against yours. His hands are _everywhere_ , and then they’re on your hips, guiding you onto your back so he can kiss his way down your body.

He stops at your dick and even though that was just about the only thing he could have been doing, your brain still feels like it’s going to explode. He wraps his hand around your dick and presses his lips to the head.

You'd be lying if you tried to say that you hadn't pictured what Dirk would look like with his mouth around your cock roughly a million times since you met him. It's better than you imagined. 

His lips are soft and wet on you and you press a hand to your mouth to somewhat muffle the moan you can't keep in. You pull your hair in an effort to get some distance, but it barely helps. 

‘Go easy on me,’ you say breathlessly. ‘Already too close, fuck.’

He looks up at you and raises his eyebrows. Fuck, he’s way too hot.

He runs the tip of his tongue over your slit slowly and rubs circles into you with your thumb. He takes your head into his mouth and gives it a sharp suck before gradually taking you into his mouth inch by inch, so fucking slowly. He’s doing something fucking magic with his tongue, and whenever you feel like you can keep your moans to yourself for a second, he squeezes you and you can’t help but react.

Fuck, if this is easy, you're completely screwed for what him going all out looks like. He's playing you so fucking well, exactly as teasing as you want. He looks completely in control, like he knows what to do to make you go crazy and he's absolutely going to do it. 

‘Oh fuck, you feel so good,’ you breathe. You cannot keep your thoughts to yourself like this, you've got no fucking control over what you say anymore. ‘Fuck, Dirk, oh my God.’

He’s petting your thigh gently with his free hand, rubbing circles and patterns into you. He hums softly as he takes more of you into his mouth. 

Your breaths are coming in unsteadily and doing nothing to calm down the erratic beating of your heart. You're moaning on every exhalation, you can't help it. He's too good.

He begins to bob your head while moving his hand up and down the part of your shaft that’s still exposed. 

You shift your legs wider, your toes curling as you resist the urge to thrust up into his mouth. Apart from it being bad form, you think you'd last about three seconds if you had were able to give into your instincts. You thread your fingers through his hair, not wanting to push him, just wanting something to ground you.

The only reason you haven't come already into his heartbreakingly talented mouth is that he isn't letting you settle into a rhythm, he's changing it up just enough to edge you. You certainly don't have the ability to do it yourself anymore, you're at his mercy.

‘Dirk, holy f-fuck, you—’ you can't even get sentences out anymore, ‘Can't hold back much longer.’

You don't even care anymore, you'll suck him off right back if he doesn't pay attention to your warning. You're so fucking close. You need to do this again when you aren't already insanely worked up. You want to live in his mouth.

He pulls off slowly and looks up at you, keeping his hand on your cock so that he can stroke you. You squirm helplessly. 

‘Do you want me to keep going?’

His hand isn't nearly enough now that you're on the edge, especially as he's holding you _gently_. Your hips lift to give yourself more friction, and it's only then that you realise what a mess you are and start breathing deeper to get yourself under control. It's barely effective, but at least you stop moaning. You need to focus on him for a bit.

You stroke his hair back from his face. He looks so good a bit ruffled and his lips red and wet. You made him look like this. 

‘God you're hard to say no to,’ you say. ‘Get up here.’

‘Would you rather it to be _easy_ to say no to me?’ he asks, tilting his head to the side. 

He strokes you a few more times almost lazily, watching your face. You almost think he’s going to make you beg to get back at you for before. But then he moves back up your body until he can kiss you, first on your neck, then your jaw, then finally your lips. 

You wrap your arm around his neck and pull him in closer. You lick his lips open so you can kiss him deeper, moaning at the feeling of his body pressing against yours. You can taste your own skin and pre on his tongue. You like the reminder of what he's been doing.

You reach down to guide your dick in between his legs and take his in your hand. He feels hot and wet against you, so much that you feel like if you changed the angle slightly you would be able to slip right inside him. You stroke his dick with firm fingers as you rock against him, too impatient to go gentle and teasing anymore.

‘Fucking _hell_ , Hal,’ he groans.

‘How do you want me?’ you ask.

He grinds right back and moves his hand until he can squeeze at your nipple. He already knows your buttons so well it's ridiculous. He has you leaning into his fingers, chasing the sharp pleasure.

‘Do you really think I give a shit at this point? And unless you have something else in mind, your dick is pretty fuckin’ close to one of the available options.’

He's giving you all the power again, so as much as you don't want any of this to stop, you're absolutely going to get him used to you being on top. You push his hip so that he's on his back and move with him until you're between his legs.

You fucking love that he's trans. You barely have to guide your dick at all, you're both wet from his pre and his hole barely resists as you slowly push in. You move your fingers teasingly to his ass, playing with his rim as you sink deep in him. Focusing on what you're doing is the only thing that keeps you from coming almost instantly. He feels so good around you.

He tugs you back low enough to kiss you hard and pulls your hair. You lean on your forearm as you kiss him and move your hips in long, slow thrusts, going deep rather than hard for now. He moves his hips with yours and plays with your nipple as your kiss. 

‘God, Hal, you feel so fucking good,’ he gasps against your lips.

He seems determined to make you come in record time, and you wish you could be pissed or competitive about that, but instead you're marvelling over how incredible he feels. 

You're moaning like a fucking whore, but you can't stop. You're not sure you'd want to if you could. He's obviously paying attention to what you like, even though you feel like you're being indiscriminately noisy at this point.

‘Fuck, Dirk,’ you groan. 

You lean your forehead into his as you start to speed up and he holds you there with his fingers tight in your hair. It's almost painful how hard you are. You're not going to last very long.

The fingers that were on your nipple move to his dick and he strokes himself with the kind of un-self-conscious attitude that comes from being this far gone. His moans aren’t anything close to words but the ones that almost are sound like your name and _fuck_ if that doesn’t make everything better.

You feel like you're on the edge of release and you really want to get Dirk off before you come. You reach down to grab his hip to hold him steady as you give up on any kind of thinking and just thrust on instinct, faster and harder and messier.

You come _hard_. You cry out and clench your eyes shut, buried as deep in him as you can get. You can feel your dick pulsing with the aftershocks as you come back to some kind of awareness, and Dirk still hasn't come. You need to fix that.

You take over from his own hand and bite down on the top of his shoulder as you force yourself to keep thrusting. You're so oversensitive, it feels fucking electric. 

‘Come on, Dirk, come for me, let go, _fuck_ , you're so fucking good,’ you chant.

‘Hal, Hal, _fuck_ ,’ he pants and you feel him tighten around you as he comes.

You groan with relief and slow down to work him through it. He has an unfairly attractive come face. It feels intimate watching him slowly relax after it, maybe because you're no longer out of your mind and you can appreciate it more. 

You stroke his hair and kiss the bite marks you gave him on his neck and shoulder as his breathing calms down and his eyes start to focus again. You're going to stop being soft with him in a second. He's probably too out of it to judge you right now. Stupid that it feels like a bigger deal to give him kisses than to fuck him. 

He's shaking just a bit. It makes you hug him closer to you, like you can soothe him. You really need to stop this, get off him and ... you don't know what you do after this. There's no vampire venom to blame, you started this and you don't have a good excuse.

He's cuddling you back just as much, which makes it okay that you're nuzzling into his neck now. His skin is soft and addictive against your lips. You can close your eyes and pretend that everything is completely fine. 

Except you definitely can't do that. You're feeling the pressure to explain yourself or even just change the subject somehow more and more with every passing second. Your cuddles are starting to feel like an excuse to hide your face. 

You have a habit of overcompensating for discomfort. The more you feel nervous about doing something, the more likely you are to throw yourself into it and pretend you've never been scared in your life. Was useful when you were a theatre kid, less so when it comes to thinking through what you're going to say before you say it. 

‘So, that happened,’ you murmur. ‘I'd apologise for being forward if I could even slightly make that sound sincere, but nope, not sorry. Kinda thought that was awesome.’

‘Mhm,’ he hums. ‘I’m not apologising for something we clearly both enjoyed, then. My brain feels scrambled because of you. In a good way.’

You think he's actually holding you closer now. Okay. That means you can cuddle him without stressing yourself out trying to figure out if he's being polite or something. God your life was easier when you didn't give a shit about what Dirk was thinking of you. (You're still not quite sure when that was, but you're sure that's true.) You let your full weight settle on him, moving slightly down so that you're mostly on his chest. 

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘I'm cool if you are. I mean, I'm probably cool even if you aren't, we should probably just assume that I'm cool regardless and always, but …’

Apparently sex-drunk you doesn't have the tightest hold on a verbal filter. You groan at yourself into Dirk's neck before you make yourself continue. 

‘I'm just saying, we don't have to make any kind of deal of this. I'm not, like, suddenly desperate for a heart to heart about hidden meaning, I'm cool with leaving this at “hot roommates had sex” but less like the title on a bad pornhub vid. Or exactly like that, considering.’

‘You’re kind of making a deal out of this by going on about it, though,’ he says. ‘We don’t have to talk about it. We had sex earlier and didn’t say jack shit about it, and the only difference then is that there was vampire fuckery at play. We can just acknowledge it and stop worrying about it. Unless you _want_ to have a heart to heart and this is your roundabout way of doing that.’

He pulls his hand away from where it was tracing circles in the back of your neck and rubs at his eyes.

‘Personally, I’m content with laying here like a lazy sack of shit and possibly getting you to tell me the ending of _Legally Blonde_. You know, since I missed it.’

You feel yourself blush and are abundantly happy that he probably can't see your face that clearly. You can't quite remember what conversational path lead you to just jumping him in the middle of one of your favourite movies, but it's embarrassing as hell that you were the one to break. Of course he's more used to the vampire/victim casual sex thing, maybe he hasn't been on edge with horniness since last time. You've got no idea what to do about the fact that you're already thinking about the possibility of there being a next time. That's not super casual of you.

‘Okay, so we're both cool,’ you say. You resist the urge to defend your rambles and completely ruin any appearance of being fine with things how they are. Of course you don't want a heart to heart. No feelings here. Dick feelings, maybe. That's it. 

‘What were we up to, was Elle defending Brooke yet?’

‘You’re completely fucking wrong if you think I have any solid idea of where we were in the movie.’ He pauses and you wait for him to get his bearings on his memory. ‘I know I was defending the one guy against your poor taste in men, so it was somewhere around or after a scene with him in it. I think she was doing some kind of lawyer shit, but I didn’t exactly get a chance to see what was going on beyond that.’

Well, you're a bit more embarrassed now. You press your face firmer into his cooler chest to try and make the heat leave your cheeks. It doesn't hurt that his chest is nice to snuggle into.

‘Right, because Emmett is supervising Elle in the courtroom because asshole teacher is an asshole. So, Elle gets up in court and a couple of her sorority sisters are there and Paulette is too, because the best part about this movie is how much everyone wants Elle to succeed, it's inspiring as fuck, but Elle's nervous and stuttery because she hasn't done anything like this before.

‘And she's cross examining Brooke's step-daughter, who has major attitude and a perm, and then she figures out that there's a hole in her story because step-daughter said she was washing her hair and that would have ruined her perm and it's the perfect “oh snap” moment because she uses her beauty knowledge but it's really her interrogation that wins it and it's a perfect metaphor for her creative thinking and she wins the case, duh. And then it flashes forward to her doing an awesome valedictorian speech, I'm such a slut for good speeches in movies and she's getting engaged to Emmett and she and Vivian are best friends and it's just sweet as hell. Oh and Warner barely graduates and no one likes him.’

‘Good for her,’ he mumbles. ‘I still think there should be an alternate ending that’s considerably more poly, but it was a good movie regardless. I always assumed it was one of those movies with a chronic amount of bitchiness and backstabbing, not something pleasant.’

You lift your head to look at Dirk's face. It tells you exactly what his voice already did; he looks about two seconds from falling asleep. He looks incredibly cute. You're pressing a kiss to his jaw before you realise what you're doing.

‘Found the cure for your insomnia, bro,’ you say. ‘It's my dick.’

Looks like you're overcompensating for previous softness with charming dickishness. Maybe not the charming part. You kiss him again, hoping to find some happy medium between the two extremes. You let your lips linger, feeling the scratch of stubble. You cannot believe he showered that long without shaving, he must have just stood under the water and zoned out. That should _not_ make you feel fond. God, you're unbearable with a crush. Even inside your own head.

He takes a long time to respond because he’s adorably tired.

‘I can’t believe your dick is so bad that it’s putting me to sleep.’

You grin automatically at his smartass comment before you realise that he's peeking at you and you quickly make a mock-outraged face instead. Maybe it's that his voice is soft with sleep, maybe it’s the sleepy smile you he’s making, maybe it's that you literally made him beg for it earlier, but you can't bring yourself to be actually offended. 

‘Oh, _burn_ ,’ you say sarcastically. ‘If you liked my dick any more, I'd have to chop it off and give it to you, shit's embarrassing.’

Again, he takes so long to answer, so you climb over his leg and slump against his side, putting your head back on his chest. You can do your chores later, you don't know when or if you'll have the chance to cuddle like this again. You're probably going to do this again, but that doesn't really matter. You want this now.

‘God, please do that,’ he mutters, smirking. ‘I could use a more realistic dildo, _and_ I would be able to get off without dealing with your bullshit. There’s literally no cons in that scenario.’

You raise your hand to hit him for being a cheeky dickhead but his eyes are closed again in a way that looks more real than last time. His face is relaxed instead of listening, there's definitely a difference. He’s asleep. You put your arm around his waist instead and hold yourself close to him.

You're going to take your head off him any second now, you can still cuddle him if that's what your stupid feelings want, but it'd be more comfortable for both of you if you gave him just a bit more space. In a minute. Especially now he's asleep, you have nothing to lose by holding yourself even closer to him. You're tired, but you'll keep awake just a bit longer so that you can have this.

God, he's just unbearably gorgeous. You trace the line of one of his scars, redder and raised from than the rest of his skin, before settling your hand back on his waist. He's colder than you, and you'd get a blanket for both your sakes if you weren't both lying on it. It might not bother him, given that his sleep is almost certainly vampire related. You should stop trying to help him at every turn.

You're struggling to keep your eyes open, and as much as you like looking at Dirk, there's really no reason to try. You move your head so that it's at a less awkward angle (you'll take it off his chest real soon) and let yourself relax. You somehow don't move away before you fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You stroke his hair and kiss the bite marks you gave him" will skip you past the porn.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal is sure there's a boundary somewhere up ahead that he's going to knock into, but Dirk keeps letting him _do_ things. He can still argue this is all casual, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's another smut chapter, surprise! Adding some tags to the thing. I'm on [tumblr](https://laurasauras.tumblr.com/), btw, if you ever want to chat! I mostly reblog stuff, but it's there. See end notes for phrases to search for to see the start and end of the sex.

You must have been more tired than you thought. You were pretty sure that you got enough sleep to function, you're a bit of a nerd about scheduling your eating and sleeping so that you can get as much done while you're awake as possible. It always seemed like it was obviously better than what Dirk does; staying up and getting increasingly stupid until he crashes and loses even more time.

To say that the last few days have fucked that up is an understatement, and to make this more obvious, you sleep without dreaming, without _moving_ for so long that it's dark again when you wake up. Days might be shorter this time of year, but _still_. 

You're groggy enough that you almost think you're not going to wake up fully, but it's soon clear why you're awake. Dirk's awake. And you're lying on top of him, keeping him trapped. You blink forcefully, trying to at least clear your sight a bit, but it's not working. You're stiff from being curled around him all day, so you squeeze his waist briefly before letting him go and stretching out.

Oh hey, you're really naked. As naked as possible, really, and so's he and this seemed like no big deal before but now you're able to string two thoughts together and those are, “aren't blankets great for hiding morning wood, glad I never put one over us” and “I've been cuddling him for hours and our arms are literally still touching, how the fuck am I feeling like I'm missing him right now”. 

Given the absolute zero subtlety of grabbing the end of your blanket and attempting to cover yourself with it when there really doesn't appear to be enough of it to do so _plus_ your stupid clinginess that you refuse to examine, you decide to roll back onto your side, shifting so you won't be rubbing up against him, but you're at least marginally less obvious than a sundial. It's not as if you have any reason to be embarrassed in front of him, but still. Your arm moves as if to hug his waist again automatically, but you change that halfway through to play with the outline of his sternum instead. You have no idea why that seemed like the better option.

‘Morn-evening,’ you say. ‘Apparently I'm giving up my diurnal ways with you.’

Dirk licks against his mouth and groans lowly. He rubs against his forehead in a way that looks very familiar to you as a migraine sufferer. It doesn’t help when you do it and it doesn’t look like it’s helping him either.

He moves slowly until his arm is around you. It’s nice, how he isn’t thinking about touching you but he’s just doing it.

‘Sorry,’ he mutters, after enough time has passed that you’ve almost forgotten that you spoke. ‘I can’t think of any solution for fixing your sleep schedule that isn’t annoying and exhausting. Unless you knock yourself out for the night.’

‘Not like I have a 9-5 anyway,’ you say dismissively. 

‘I need to go do shit tonight,’ he says.

‘Go, like _go_ go?’ You rub your eyes and try to force yourself to wake up a bit more. You need coffee. You're not quite as annoyed about the slow process of alertness this time, but you really do wish you could be less of a dumbass when you first wake up. ‘Like outside?’

You guess if anyone was able to do that in the first week of being turned it would be Dirk, but given that you're able to piss him off a lot easier than usual, it's probably not a good idea. 

‘I need to get groceries anyway, let me go. I'm an excellent errand boy, just write me a list,’ you say.

You wonder if you slipped out to brush your teeth if you'd be allowed to come back and cuddle him again after. Probably not, seeing as you're just dudes being bros that have sex occasionally. You're gonna blame your clinginess on being barely awake. Having the excuse means you're a bit more okay with shifting closer.

‘Are you sure you wanna play fetch?’ he asks. ‘I didn’t think you were generous or selfless enough to be an errand boy. In fact, I figured you would straight up avoid doing anything like that. Are you getting soft?’

His voice is teasing and still sleep-rough as he brushes your hair out of your face.

‘I'm not soft,’ you deny, leaning into the hand stroking your hair like a goddamn liar. He seems fine with the touchy feely stuff meaning nothing along with the sex, which makes sense. It isn't like you're more or less likely to catch feelings if you avoid cuddling after. Probably. Whatever, it feels nice, you're not stopping if he isn't. 

‘I'm just going out anyway. And I'm selflessly protecting the streets from the fierce new vampire. That's kind of a factor. You should bite me before I leave so you don't get hangry.’

You could have danced around that, but you're _not_ soft, and he might have forgotten how much he really shouldn't be around people he doesn't want to bite right now. You're not even going to get dressed, it'll be nice to go straight for the awesome feelings without having to fuck around with your clothes. Maybe you shouldn't be assuming sex will be involved …

‘You’re so soft that you make blankets look like sheets of iron,’ he teases. ‘You’re so noble. You should be knighted for your deeds.’

‘Okay, I'll take the knighting, but only because swords are awesome.’

‘You know, I’m not feeling that hungry. I think any biting can wait until after you get back. I’d like to get a shower in before that inevitable shit show, anyway.’

You're pretty sure he should be feeling hungry. _You're_ feeling hungry. You've done a bit of research, but he's going through it, he's obviously a better source than the internet. You need to trust him. And you can't think of why he'd want to lie.

It's a bit disappointing that you won't be getting the nocturnal equivalent of morning sex. Well, unless you just start kissing him anyway, but that's probably stupid, right? Bad enough that you couldn't keep it to yourself yesterday. Except that neither of you are being sorry for that.

‘Okay, I guess that's your domain,’ you say. ‘Hey, I was having a philosophical thought earlier. If you're drinking my blood, does that mean technically you're still consuming half the groceries?’

‘Is this your way of figuring out if I’ll still be contributing to the cost of groceries? Because I don’t plan on wrecking any of our arrangements due to a simple change in diet. I mean, I am technically consuming what enters your bloodstream. I wouldn’t consider that to be anywhere near half of the groceries at that point, though, and it’s not like it makes a difference anyway. The real tragedy here is that I’ll never know what pizza tastes like again.’

‘The nerd in me wants to make you try and taste things and write down what happens in an actually simple way. And see if me eating different things changes the taste of my blood, shit like that. I'm feeling really cross with the internet's lack of good resources. Maybe I'll start a blog. I'm not going to start a fucking blog. It would be nice to know some shit though. My friends are losers who absolutely don't know any vampires, I can guarantee it. Ugh, no, never mind, I don't want a vampire mentor, I hated _Interview With A Vampire_.’

You're rambling now, you need to stop. You need to stop being in this position with Dirk, guards fully down because of sleep or sex or blood loss. Or you could just continue getting in those situations because he hasn't once done more than playfully banter back with you. You need to talk to someone who isn't stupid about that, and you're putting yourself in the stupid category until further notice.

‘I’m down for irresponsible experimentation if you are. I’m curious to see if vampires actually are deathly allergic to garlic. You should pick up garlic at the store so we can test it out.’

He doesn’t seem to care that you ramble. Knowing that makes you feel just as _something_ as him letting you ramble through the movie yesterday.

‘What did _Interview With A Vampire_ ever do to you?’ he asks.

‘They can't even _fuck_. I read 150 pages of that _shitty, shitty_ book that says on the back of it—hold up, I've got the paperback around here somewhere,’ you start to sit up, realise that you don't want to do that and slump back into Dirk's arms, ‘it says bullshit like “the most erotic thing ever”, right? And it's popular enough to make a movie out of! So, I pick it up, I start reading, the writing is pretty average but Louis is _obviously_ the gayest vampire I've ever met—I know I didn't really meet him and I know you're lying right here, trust me on this, he's gayer—and he starts talking about how much he hates Lestat, so I'm thinking _fuck yes_ , angry vampire sex, that's the best thing ever. But they can't even fuck! Because their hearts have stopped or some bullshit? Like that would only stop erections from happening but muscle movement would still be fine? And _apparently_ Louis and Lestat aren't even gay? What is the point of vampires if they can't fuck?’

You put your fingers over his pulse point on his neck, half sarcastically and half to make the point. Yeah, see, it's a lot weaker than yours, he's colder than you like his blood flow isn't as good, but he obviously can still move so he still has an amount of blood in him. You haven't taken your fingers away. You're kind of just holding his neck. Be very easy to pull him in for a kiss, if you wanted.

He laughs. An actual proper laugh. You’ve never heard him do that before. You want to hear it a lot more, it’s nice. You probably wouldn’t care if he sounded like a donkey, though, you're full of a soft kind of thrill that you got him to laugh and are desperate to do it again. It's almost a positive version of your impulse to control people, you want him happy all the time and you want to be the reason why. That's a scary thought. Being attracted to him is much easier to deal with in retrospect.

 

‘I shouldn’t be surprised that your primary problem with this is their inability to get laid. There’s obviously no reason for vampires to exist if they can’t fuck. I would have offed myself immediately if I couldn’t fuck. Immortality isn’t worth it if you’re cursed with erectile dysfunction.’

He shifts slightly until both his arms are around you and you move automatically to make that easier. You haven't taken your hand away from his neck yet. It feels like you're going to kiss. It _really_ feels like that. You could back off, just a bit, break the mood, but he's happy and you _helped_ with that.

‘150 pages is nothing as far as shitty book encounters go. I read over 1,000 pages of Ayn Rand’s mediocre bullshit for a project in high school, and then the project was _cancelled_. You should read Twilight if you haven’t already. Those vampires can fuck, fortunately for you, but I’m curious to see what you’ll take issue with as far as inaccuracies and characters go. You know, it would be interesting to see what’s accurate and what isn’t in entertainment and myths in terms of vampires. We can go ahead and rule out the inability to fuck and sparkling in sunlight.’

‘I'm up for Vampire MythBusters. Quick question: do you think we've _definitely_ established ability to fuck? I'd hate to have inconclusive results because we hadn't done thorough enough testing.’

‘Are you suggesting that we fuck for science because you woke up with a boner? I was just going to ignore it for your sake, you know.’

You glance down to verify that you're still rocking a semi. Under normal circumstances that would have gone away by now. Hot, naked vampire holding you to his chest like he's not going to let you go is not normal circumstances.

‘You're the picture of tactful. We can definitely continue to ignore that, but as we're both here …’

You stroke his neck with your thumb, feeling the slight roughness of the one bite mark you didn't give him. You're ready to pull back if he isn't into it, you're not sure if he's in the same space as you. You don't know how much is to do with lingering vampire bullshit and how much is just that he's hot and the sex is fucking fantastic, but he might just be cuddling you for some other reason that isn't ... liking you. 

You actually have no idea how he feels about you and you don't know how to ask. Basically all your good interactions have been somewhat imposed on him by the weird circumstances. It's one of the main reasons why you probably shouldn't be getting quite so attached.

He moves his hand slowly up and down your side and you’re pretty sure that’s an indication he’s okay with you escalating. It’s not overly suggestive, but it still sends tingles of arousal through you.

‘I’m the most tactful person I know. You’re pretty tactful yourself. I just happened to notice your hard on when it was up against my leg.’ He’s looking at his hand on your skin as you watch his face. ‘What are you in the mood for?’ he asks.

It’s an intoxicating question. You haven't had the opportunity to take your time with Dirk yet, or even consider your options, both times have been a race to rip your clothes off and get inside him.

Not that you're complaining. You've never connected so easily with someone else before, it's like you and Dirk have been immune to the awkwardness and other bullshit new couples usually go through before they know each other well enough for it to be good. Or this is your awkward stage and it'll get somehow better. You think you'd have a heart attack if that was the case.

‘I want to go down on you,’ you tell him. ‘Suck you off until you come for me and then rim you through your refractory period and fuck you. Thoughts?’

He stares at you, looking actually kind of stupid as he wraps his head around your proposal. You like it on him, you like surprising him.

‘I think anyone would be a fuckin’ idiot to say no,’ he murmurs. He cups your cheek and draws you in for a kiss.

The tension that had been building as you resisted kissing him, something you have been doing from the moment you woke up if you're being honest, breaks and transforms into something deep and low when he finally touches his lips to yours. You've edged closer to him steadily enough that you barely have to shift to climb between his legs and press your chests together. 

You deepen the kiss, licking his tongue lazily into your mouth. You let your bodies get closer, your dicks just touching as you kiss. His skin is already warming against yours, which you find deeply satisfying for some reason. You love the way he feels, the way you fit together.

You bite his lower lip and suck it gently and slowly before guiding his head to the side so that you can kiss his neck. You're gentle on the mark where he was turned. You're feeling the impulse to be gentle all over. You wonder if that will frustrate him or if he'll like it. You nibble on his earlobe before returning to kiss along his neck again.

He runs his hands slowly and surely over your body as you kiss gradually down his neck and to his collarbone. He rubs gentle circles into your nipples while they’re still in reach then drags his fingers firmly up the back of your neck and into your hair.

‘I didn’t know you had a gentle side,’ he says quietly.

He's so gorgeous underneath you. You get to do this, you get to touch him and kiss him, to hear his soft noises and see his unguarded expressions. There is no way you can ever give this up. That might be a bit possessive of a thought. You're going to lean into it anyway.

‘Mmm,’ you agree. ‘Keeping you on your toes.’

You stroke down his chest and down to his hip before dragging your fingers up again as slowly as you can bear to go. It's nice to feel unhurried. You don't think you'd be able to take your time like this if you hadn't been able to touch him so much this morning and since then. It still doesn't feel _normal_ , you're still marvelling at how good he feels, but you're calmer about it now.

You kiss down his chest, digging in your teeth gently for a moment. You're still being soft with him. You just like biting him. You shift down slightly so you can keep making your way down his body. You pinch his nipple as your hand passes by and he gasps.

‘I think you’re just trying to drive me up the wall here,’ he says.

You grin wickedly up at him and thumb over his nipple again, lighter this time. That's exactly what you're trying to do. He's worth taking your time with, you've decided. Worth more than throwing himself at anyone who isn't you. You're going to make him feel so good that he won't even be able to consider doing that anymore.

‘Is it working?’ you ask, pretending innocence. It's pretty obvious that he's into this. His fingers are tight in your hair and you're looking forward to hearing the soft noises he's already starting to make get a whole lot louder. 

‘I like you like this,’ you say, moving down his chest enough to kiss the nipple you aren't still playing with. His dick is pressing into your stomach now, which is distracting as hell for the long game you want to play. ‘You should be naked at all times.’

You flick your tongue over his nipple to demonstrate what you could do for him if he was always naked. He's so hot. How the fuck have you been resisting him all this time?

‘Don’t you— _fuck_ ,’ he groans. ‘Don’t you think that being naked all the time would have some disadvantages? As exciting as the nudist life sounds, I don’t think I can commit to it entirely. Maybe I’d be more open to it if you did it with me.’

There's something incredibly sexy about making Dirk stumble over his words. You like having an impact on him, like making him swear and moan for you. It makes you want to linger on his nipples even longer, alternating between sucking and licking just to hear how it affects his voice. 

‘I think I'd end up starving to death if I had to leave this just to get food,’ you say. Whoops, too real and way too romantic. You bite his nipple with careful teeth in what you hope is a distracting way to buy time to think of how to fix it. He tips his head back and groans. You can't think of anything that isn't taking it back somehow, and apart from him probably thinking less of you for not owning your shit, you also don't want to take it back. 

You kiss along his ribs instead of talking, nibbling the ridges with your lips. You're just going to pretend you don't see anything wrong with what you said. You shift lower again, and grab his ass firmly. He has a fantastic ass. You're very much looking forward to getting properly acquainted with it.

‘I think I prefer you alive rather than starving to death,’ he says breathlessly. ‘Can’t you take me to dinner before you go in for the groping?’

Aw, he prefers you alive. You're definitely blowing his mind here. You'd tease him for it if you weren't busy sucking a bruise into his hip bone. His skin tastes amazing. And looks really good with your teeth marks on it.

‘I offered my neck first, dude,’ you say. ‘Oh damn, you think if you had me after this we'd get really fucking horny again and just marathon right through this? I bet I could get you off three times in an hour.’

Fuck that sounds hot. You're basically teasing your damn self with this at the moment. You want him in your mouth so bad. You lick down his dick slowly and groan at how amazing he feels. You need to take your time on this, he deserves to be worshipped.

‘Are you _sure_ your dick can handle that? And don’t you have groceries to get? Or are you really going to starve yourself to death just for sex?’ He’s trying valiantly to keep the conversation going but he’s stumbling through it and there’s a husky quality to his breathing like he’s on the egde of moaning with every breath.

You take his dick into your mouth and suck gently. Oh fuck he tastes good. It's taking all you've got not to just go all out on him from the get go. Maybe going slow isn't actually the way you want to go. You pull off him and bite your lip, stroking him while you try to get yourself back under control.

‘Shit, I was joking but it's actually going to happen,’ you say. You groan into his upper thigh. ‘Fuck, Dirk, you're gorgeous. Gotta die somehow.’

‘You’re a dumbass,’ he pants. ‘I’m not letting you die just because you’ve discovered that you’re a sex addict.’

Sex addict, as if this is remotely comparable to the one night stands you have had in the past. Addicted to him, maybe. You ignore him and fit his dick in your mouth. You pulse your tongue along him as you grab at his ass. He whines and spreads his legs further apart so you tease your fingers closer to his holes. He's too hot, you find yourself grinding into mattress without ever making the decision to do so.

‘Hal, holy fuck,’ he gasps. ‘You feel so fucking good.’

You stroke up and down his thighs until you can't take it anymore, you just want to be inside him. You trace the edges of his holes, feeling the wetness from your mouth and his pre. He feels fucking amazing. You love the noises he makes as you tease him. The way he squirms against you, bucking his hips against the hold you’ve got him in and grinding himself against your tongue in the process, is even better.

You want to egg him on, want to tell him how much you're enjoying this but you can't. You moan into him and try to show him with your enthusiasm instead, bobbing your head as you press your hands to his thighs, holding him close. His hand grips your hair tight as if he’s afraid you’re going somewhere. You’d sooner suffocate. 

‘Hal,’ he groans, and you have definitely never liked your name as much as you do right now. ‘Hal, I can’t, _fuck_ , I can’t hold back for long.’

You groan into him and press yourself as close as you can, taking him deep into your mouth. You're not stopping just to reiterate that you want him to come like this. You swallow around him and start bobbing your head in faster, sloppier movements.

He swears loudly and his dick throbs when he comes, which is just about the hottest thing you've ever felt. You ease up, but don't take your mouth away. It's hard to go easy on him when you're so worked up and you want to see him all oversensitive and helpless. You want to fuck him too, but if you're being honest you could definitely use a bit of a cool-down so you don't blow your load immediately after being touched.

He's practically trembling, God, you can't decide whether that's super cute or super hot. It can be both. You let his dick fall out of your mouth after one last suck and devote yourself to licking him all over instead, slowly for now. You're playing with the edge of 'too much' and you know it.

You lick your way slowly back to his ass, lingering over his dick and hole first and then shifting just slightly to the side to bite the cheek of his ass almost gently. If it wasn't such a nice ass you'd have been able to hold yourself back, but this thing has been begging for your teeth for a while now. You grin up at him to see his reaction, which includes a fairly wrecked moan. Makes sense that the dude who was hooking up with vampires so often would like your teeth as much as he does.

‘Still cool with me rimming you then fucking you?’ you ask. You think you could probably do anything to him when he's like this, but you're not _actually_ evil. Tempting, though.

He nods slowly, like it takes effort. 

‘If you’re up to it. Are you sure you can last long enough for that?’

‘Not even a bit sure,’ you say. ‘I promise if I get so into this that I come against the sheets like a fucking tool I'll still get you off again. I'd like to think I have a bit of self control left, but you're really messing with my cool here.’

You're not sure why you're so fine with that idea. It should be an embarrassing prospect. But you feel comfortable here, and you kind of like that he makes you feel so out of control. You're not as out of control as him, anyway, which you love. 

You nuzzle the soft skin of his ass before biting him again, this time almost on his thigh. The way your teeth sink in is just so satisfying, which makes it hard to stop. You're already biting him harder than you would be if he wasn't moaning in a very encouraging way. You wouldn't be surprised if you've left another mark. You think the love-bites on his neck are healing faster than they should. You'll have to renew them next time they're in reach. 

You drag your lips closer to his asshole again, humming lowly. You don’t miss the way his hips lift slightly off the bed or the shaky breath you hear.

‘Fuck, Hal. You really like teasing, don’t you?’

You love the way he reacts to you. The power is absolutely going to your head. You lick slowly over his hole and up all the way to his dick before dropping your chin back down again. You're probably not going to be able to keep such a frustrating pace but he's right; you do like to tease. 

You look up at him as you start to follow the same path with your fingers. You squeeze his dick before tracing back again. You love his body so much, you could spend hours doing this. Maybe you will. It'd be amazing to be able to do so without the aching tension of arousal making you want to just fuck him open with your tongue so you can get inside him already.

‘Just being thorough. You like it.’ You raise your eyebrow at him, challenging him to disagree with you as you stroke him again.

‘Think you can handle being thorough?’ he asks breathlessly.

You smirk at him instead of answering and bend your face down to lick at his hole again. He keeps talking big, as if you're the one panting and squirming and he's the one making you that way.

Well, okay, there's a bit of truth to that. But he's definitely further gone than you. Probably. He's hot as hell like this and unlike him, you haven't gotten off yet. You're pressing your dick into the sheets and you know if you'd chosen to position yourself in reach of him you'd be in serious danger. 

In any case, you're not chancing it too long. You lick with renewed enthusiasm before spreading his cheeks and sucking at his rim. He arches his back almost violently but you’re able to move with him. You dig your fingers into his ass, partly for him but mostly because you're struggling to hold back. You moan into his ass and feel your lips vibrate against his skin. You want to get inside him so badly.

‘ _Hal_ ,’ he groans.

Dirk's getting more and more worked up. You work your tongue inside him, pressing yourself closer to compensate for the way he's moving. It goes in easy thanks to the wetness of your mouth. You tease your thumbs closer, spreading him apart. You stroke at his rim, feeling the difference in texture as you move your tongue inside him.

His noises only encourage you to attack him with more eagerness. You hear fabric rip, and that's apparently very hot to you. You bet he could do damage to a lot more than just your sheets and you've got him completely at your mercy. 

You take your tongue away so that you can stretch him with your fingers instead. You drag your fingers down his slit until they're coated with his pre before you push two into his ass.

‘Fuck you're sexy,’ you tell him. You take his dick into your mouth as you thrust your fingers in and out of him.

He grabs your hair again and lifts his hips at the same time, swearing as he fucks your face. You moan and press against him even more, probably rougher than you should. His dick feels amazing on your tongue and you have to hold yourself back from sucking as hard as you can. 

‘God fucking _damn_ it, Hal,’ he says. ‘You’re too good, holy shit.’

He's holding your hair firmly enough that you probably should be concerned, especially because the tiny rational part of your brain is pointing out that he's not used to his strength yet and you can't trust him to know when he's gone too far (or to care, when you've got him like this) but that just makes your dick throb harder. You're an idiot, but you can't care right now.

You start to pump your fingers in and out of him, feeling the tightness of his ass slowly relax against you as he encourages you by squirming even more against you. You're pretty distracted by how giving head makes you horny as fuck, you don't think you could even bring yourself to be disappointed if he came again and didn't want you to fuck him, but you do still want that and you're going to keep working towards it until he tells you otherwise.

‘Hal,’ he groans. ‘Fuck me. Fuck me, _please_.’

You really want to hear him beg you more, but if you do you're not going to make it to the actual sex. You pull your mouth away reluctantly and bite him on the upper thigh as you slowly ease your fingers out of him.

‘Lube,’ you say, and _wow_ that's not how your voice usually sounds. You're breathing pretty quickly, too. You bite him again in an effort to feel a bit more in control. ‘I need lube,’ you correct yourself. 

You sit up and crawl forward until you're level with him. You kiss him on the forehead distractedly before you reach past to your bedside table, somewhat impeded by the way he wraps his arm loosely around you the second you’re in reach. You've been lucky enough to just follow impulse up until now but even though you've done anal without lube in the past, it sucks and you're not ready to break the streak of fucking incredible sex you've been having.

‘Condom yay or nay?’ you ask, seeing as you're there. Bit late in some regards. Still seems gentlemanly to ask.

‘Seems a bit pointless by now, don’t you think?’ he says, so you leave them be and shift back closer to him. 

You take the lube out and pour some onto your palm. He leans up on his elbows so he can kiss and nip at your neck, which is incredibly distracting. You lean into him, tilting your neck back so he can do whatever he wants with it as you stroke your dick as businesslike as you can. 

‘Fucking hell, you're hot,’ you murmur.

You line up and press your dick to him. You have to take your neck away to get the angle right, but it's not a bad thing to be able to focus more anyway. You look him in the eye, making sure he's still okay on reflex. His whole body seems to be begging you to get on with it. 

Even with the prep, your dick's bigger than your fingers and he's tight as fuck as you start to push into him. You go slow, and lower yourself back down so you can kiss along his collarbone as you fill him. You think you can go ahead and call your strange roommate friendship ruined, you'll never be able to look at him platonically again knowing how amazing his ass feels.

You thrust slowly at first, focusing more on touching his chest and kissing his neck. Every slow movement of your hips has his body relaxing more against you, makes it easier and smoother. He feels so fucking good, you want to take your time to appreciate the tug of his body along your dick but the instinct to speed up is taking over.

You stop kissing him so you can look him in the eye as you fuck him. It makes you feel more nervous and more turned on than anything else you've done and you're not remotely willing to examine why. (You know why.) 

You kiss him, ignoring the ridiculousness of eye contact being the thing that feels too intimate when you're balls deep in his ass. You'll take any excuse to kiss him anyway, you love the feeling of his lips and tongue against yours. You love the way he has you anchored by the hair too. You like the way it pulls as you move your body, verging on painful.

You groan into his mouth as you let instinct take over and ruin the calm rhythm you were building up. You thrust into him with abandon, resting your weight on one forearm next to his head so you can stroke down his chest. 

You move to the curve of his hips and ass and relish the feeling of his muscles shifting under soft skin as he moves with you. His ass is officially worthy of worship, you're going to set up a temple and he's going to hate it. Nice that you can still think of ways to bother him. Sex this good would be an okay replacement for the banter you have, but you don't think you were willing to give it up.

You have to stop kissing him because you're struggling to breathe through your nose. You gasp for breath as you let him go and bite him on his shoulder before leaning on your forearm. Too late to try and recover, you just hope you come before you have to stop. Somehow your breathlessness only makes everything feel better. 

You release his ass so that you can take his dick in hand instead. You love the feel of it in your hand, love his immediate response. You swear under your breath at the extra wave of arousal his voice moaning your name triggers in you.

His fingers digging into your back, his lips on your neck, it's all too good, you want to keep doing this forever almost as much as you want to come _right now_. You can feel the barest hint of his teeth against your neck as he sucks bruises into you and that's so irresistibly hot that you feel yourself buck uncontrollably into him every time you feel that hard edge of fang. 

You don't know if they're out because he's hungry or because sex and hunger are mixed up for newbie vampires (or all vampires, you don't have anywhere near enough experience with this) or if he just can't control them at all right now, but it's driving you crazy not knowing if he's going to bite you properly. Then he shifts to your shoulder and you groan over the end of the his whine which is hot all on its own.

‘ _Nngh_ ,’ you moan. ‘Fuck, Dirk. Want you to bite me, even just a bit, fuck.’

You move your arms closer to him, bracing yourself against the mattress so you can isolate your thrusts more to your hips. You don't want to move your neck even an inch away from him in case he agrees.

He doesn't reply, he just bites into your neck. 

It's different from last time. You still get that dizzy rush of everything's happening too quick, you still get that rush of sensitivity and awareness, but you're _moving_ and you can feel that it isn't just a sensation thing. You get stronger, your thrusts get more confident and then faster, you're suddenly able to keep up with the pace your mind wanted to set. 

" _Fuck_ ," you swear. 

Usually in sex your body feels good, but the main event is absolutely the sensation on your cock, with spikes of pleasure in other directions when you're touched. Now it feels like your whole body is electric and it's overwhelming as fuck. You squeeze your eyes closed in an effort to take away something, but if anything that just makes the feelings more intense.

He stops drinking a lot quicker than other times, maybe because he wasn't hungry to begin with or maybe because he's clenching down on you with his orgasm and he needed to be able to cry out your name. You can't take anymore, you come too, deep inside him and pressing the side of your face to his because you want to be closer somehow than you are.

It's unlike any orgasm you've ever had, you feel it down to your _toes_. You groan as you feel your dick empty into him, and it lasts so long you whine at how it's too much.

You let your weight fall onto him, completely boneless with exhaustion. You turn your face to lazily kiss him, on his cheek first because you can't be bothered lifting your head, but then his lips as you feel yourself start to recover. 

You’re running low on reasons to stay detached at this point and it’s hard to feel as scared of that as you should be when you’re this blissed out. He slowly wraps his arms more firmly around you as he comes down from his own high.

You really would have started doing this sooner if you’d realised how good he’d be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex scene starts with "You think you'd have a heart attack if that was the case" and basically goes until the end of the chapter. Dirk bites Hal during and Hal gets a bit stronger/more sensitive as a result. Also might be important to point out that this probably constitutes body worship and is a bit more emotionally significant than a quickie that can be explained away on vampire venom.


	10. Chapter 10

‘That was so fucking good,’ you mumble against his mouth. 

He smiles as you kiss him, you can feel it on his lips. He’s even more out of it than you are, clumsy in returning your kisses like he hasn’t been. He manages to get his arms around you more firmly even despite his lethargy though.

‘Mhm,’ he hums. ‘I think you’ve officially fucked me up. There’s no going back. I’m never going to be able to move again and it’s your fault.’

It actually hurts a little to see how goddamn beautiful he looks when he smiles like that. And there's a dangerous descriptor, 'cause it's true. You really wish your brain could stick to just noticing the hot parts of him, leave the beautiful bits alone, it's not like he's lacking those. 

‘I think I can work with that,’ you say. ‘Puppet you around _Weekend At Bernie's_ style when I absolutely need to but otherwise you can just live in my bed, fuck my brains out and be my pillow at night.’

And banter with you over nothing and let you talk through movies and smile like this on lazy mornings. Damn, you're pathetic. You like the way his arms are around you, pulling you close as if gravity don't already got that covered. You're still breathing kinda heavy and you feel clumsy with tiredness. You stroke down his arm and you're almost surprised when your fingers end up tangled with his. You don't let them go though.

He laughs lazily and squeezes your hand.

‘So I’m essentially going to be your sentient sex doll and mattress? Something about that seems a little immoral.’

‘Can't be immoral when you're this cute,’ you tell him. You rest your head on his shoulder with his neck in easy kissing range. ‘It's a compliment if you squint. My bed used to be a very exclusive club before you flashed the bouncer.’

You're ... not looking forward to having your bed to yourself again once his curtains arrive. Will this end when they do? No, he'll still need to eat, you're the obvious choice for that. In the house and willing and a guaranteed good lay. 

And you think he likes you. It feels like he likes you. He can't be this cuddly with the random dudes he was giving himself to before, right?

Maybe if you told him you like him. You've been pretty obvious, at least compared to usual. Too obvious for your liking, really. Ugh, you definitely can't just come out and _say_ you like him. Maybe you could make him a shitty Valentine or something, obviously ironic but with that little bit of sincerity there because you're still getting him a Valentine. Except that he might think that you're making fun of him. That's kinda Dirk's thing.

‘I’m not cute,’ he says, frowning cutely. ‘Hey, I didn’t say I was against it. Do you know how much less stress I’d have to deal with if I lived in your bed?’ 

‘I'm sure I'd give you shit to stress about,’ you say. ‘Not gonna quit bothering you just 'cause you absolutely are cute. How is that a thing you can even fight, we have mirrors, you know what you look like. Oh hey, can you still see your reflection? Because next time when you're hungry you should check your fangs out before you come to me, they're pretty cool.’

‘I never said you wouldn’t give me shit to stress about. I just wouldn’t have to worry about most of the shit not caused by you. Thanks for ensuring that my anxiety doesn’t get a break though. I obviously need to be mentally fucked at all times to be a functional person. And I’m _not_ cute. I can fight it because it isn’t true. And I’m pretty sure I can still see my reflection. That myth is supposed to be exclusive to older mirrors because of what they were made with, I think.’

You trace your fingers over the side of his neck that you're not pressed into as he talks. You think you can feel the slightly raised skin where you've bitten him. It's soft. 

You barely have to raise your chin to kiss his neck. He smells so good and you love the way he moves just a bit so it's even easier for you to kiss him. When you lick him in between kisses he shivers just a bit and you smile against his neck.

‘Weren’t you planning on heading out tonight?’

‘Mmm, we've run out of pretty much everything,’ you say. 

Could wait until morning, but then that's when Dirk will be sleeping and _fuck_ , that shouldn't be a factor but it is, you want to sleep with him, like, just sleeping. You're ridiculous. It'd be so much more convenient if you could just want him for sex.

You push yourself up on your arm so you can see your alarm clock and groan. It's not even 9. You've got no excuse to stay. Not that you want an excuse to stay. The fact that you were looking for one is a really good indicator that you should leave.

‘Gonna shower. Actually, gonna do this real quick, then shower.’ You lean back into Dirk's chest and kiss him. You like way his lips feel on yours so fucking much.

‘Yeah, you really do need to shower,’ he mumbles against your lips. ‘You’re gross.’

You stick your tongue in his mouth in the least appealing way you can before letting him go. And then you bite his lip, just as an extra punishment. Fuck, you like his stupid face so much.

He pretends to gag and hits you on the arm. You grin at him.

‘I didn’t want to have to bleach my mouth tonight,’ he says.

You push away from him and climb off your bed. You're a bit unsteady on your feet, but it's nothing too bad. You probably could stand to actually do the meal and hydration plan you had such high hopes for. You're going to get something properly good for you before you do shopping. One of those miracle soups from the Chinese restaurant maybe.

‘If I invite you to my shower am I going to be allowed to leave it after a normal human amount of time or are your marathon sessions contagious?’ you ask.

He sits up and raises his eyebrows as he considers. 

‘I don’t know. I’m up for finding out if you are, though. Long showers are hardly a bad thing anyway; I think you’d like them.’

It feels so weird to not put clothes on before you head to the bathroom, but there's not any point getting dressed only to get undressed like 5 feet away. You decide to give Dirk control over the temperature because there's no way you're as fussy as him and brush your teeth as he deals with the taps.

‘Toothpaste,’ you say to yourself, adding it to the mental list. ‘Did you say you needed shit too?’

‘Garlic,’ he says and you laugh under your breath because he was willing to leave the house just for that? ‘I wasn’t joking about playing MythBusters with this. I’ll write you a list of shit before you go.’

When you turn around after putting your toothbrush away, Dirk's facing the wall, getting into the shower. God _damn_ but he has a nice ass. You're tempted to bite him, but there's no way you're doing that smoothly. You slap it instead, not too hard but it makes a good noise (his yelp is an even better one), and hop in after him.

‘Do you just go around slapping people’s asses for the hell of it? Is that one of your fuckin’ hobbies or something? Or is it just exclusive to those unfortunate enough to live with you.’

The shower has a pretty great reach but it's still one shower for two dudes. You barely hesitate before reaching for his waist and stepping into his personal space. This was part of the whole shower thing, you're not making a big deal of it. The water pours into your face and you shove your hair back impatiently so you can keep touching him. 

‘I have never slapped the ass of someone I've lived with. Congratulations on the achievement. I'll make you a plaque.’ 

‘Great,’ he says sarcastically. ‘If you get me a plaque I might actually kill you. With the plaque. The crime scene will be horrible.’

‘I always knew you had a choice ass, there's literally no point pretending otherwise at this point, but damn, it's a different thing naked. I'm infatuated. I'm gonna get flowers when I'm out. Not for you, for your ass.’

He shoves you, but it’s so light it barely even makes you move, and it doesn’t do a thing to distract you from the way that his cheeks are red with embarrassment. Well worth it. And a second later he’s stroking up your back and pinching your hair gently in his fingers.

His skin is so nice under your hands and you're pretty sure the way you're cuddling into him is undercutting your insistence that this is purely physical. You press your lips to his shoulder.

‘I will find a way to stick those flowers up your ass and move out if you do that. If your obsession with my ass goes that far, I really don’t think I could handle it. You need therapy, man. It’s just an ass. You can’t fall in love with an ass.’

See, he fights you on this but he's pressing closer to you and stroking your hair. You've got plenty of room before he's actually offended, and you're gonna use every last inch. It's a dance you've perfected as his roommate. 

You run your fingers down his back until you reach his ass and cup it appreciatively. You're exaggerating, but barely. 

‘If I write love poetry to your ass, will you give us some privacy? I like you fine, you keep playing with my hair and I might call us friends one day, seriously dude, that's really nice, but it's not on the same level as what I feel for your ass.’

He rolls his eyes and reaches past you for the shampoo. You think he’s adjusting to your bullshit, he can almost pretend like you’re not bothering him at all. It’s a nice surprise when you find out that the shampoo’s for you, too. 

You lean into his hands and close your eyes. His fingers against your scalp are so amazing you think you actually forget how to think for a minute. You let out a tiny groan and relax even more. Fuck, best post-sex routine ever. You're going to melt down the drain with the water any second now.

‘Why don’t I just off myself and you can have all the privacy you want with my ass,’ he says ‘It might be connected to a corpse, sure, but I’m essentially dead already. You’d get all the time you wanted with it without me interrupting the two of you.’

‘Mmm but you walk around now, I get to see it in action. Also, your ass might be my one true love but let's not be too hasty to corpsify the rest of you. Your fingers are quickly earning living privileges, holy shit.’

You can feel shampoo sliding onto your face so you don't dare open your eyes, but you bet Dirk's making that grumpy face you like so much. You probably should feel less comfortable with your eyes closed around him, not that you think he's gonna hurt you, just because this is a pretty vulnerable position and you honestly don't care, which is weird.

‘Have you just been keeping me around for the sole purpose of staring at my ass?’ he asks, tugging at a lock of your hair as if that’ll make you shut up. ‘I’ll have to let you know now that my ass isn’t up for polygamy. Sorry bro, but it’s my ass or my fingers.’

He wipes his hands gently across your face, presumably rescuing you from the risk of shampoo. You peek at him and close your eyes again as he guides you back a half step so you’re under the spray properly again, running his fingers through your hair to rinse it. _Yes_ , he’s got his grumpy Dirk face on. Oh wow, you can achieve this through compliments. _That's_ a fun game.

It's nice being taken care of like this. It's not something you were expecting, or even something you've gotten before. Is this romance? It feels more like friendship, just with nudity. Is _that_ what romance is?

‘I'm telling you, I looked at your ass before because I have fuckin' eyes, I knew it was good, I just hadn't realised _how_ good. So, fingers versus ass, your ass wins, _just_ , though feel free to prove me wrong later. But if your fingers are up for poly and I can have them _and_ your dick, suddenly the scales are tipping the other way. You have a top notch dick, Dirk, it's frankly a shame that you're always keeping it covered up.’

‘You know that this is just getting stupider by the second, right? Every word you say about my ass and your undying adoration for it is just a waste of oxygen. It’s sad. You can fantasize all you want about the nudist life, but I don’t have any interest in it. My dick will have to remain covered up, or otherwise I’ll be charged with indecent exposure. I’d rather prevent that from showing up in my criminal record.

‘I’m beginning to think that you’ve got the hots for every part of my body except my actual self. I can’t say I blame you there, but are you sure you don’t want to go the corpse route? It just seems so much more convenient.’

Oh damn, you do have the hots for every part of his body. And his actual self. And you've painted yourself into a compliment corner here, because if you say you like him then you're saying you like him but if you say you don't like him then you're saying you don't like him. Both of those options are somehow the worst case scenario here.

‘Nngh,’ you say, awkwardly. ‘No, I wasn't …’ Wow, hot shower. You're definitely not blushing, the shower's just hot. Thank God you can't open your eyes yet.

‘I was making _you_ uncomfortable, you're not supposed to turn the tables,’ you grumble. ‘You're supposed to get huffy with me and then I win.’ You let your head fall down onto his shoulder as if melodrama is what this situation is missing.

He wraps his arm around you, hugging you to him and it's both making you blush worse and want to squeeze him back so hard that he loses his breath. And he won. You're a sore loser, you know this about yourself, why is him winning some kind of hot? Is it because you like a challenge?

His voice is full of laughter when he says, ‘Oh, I’m sorry, do you really think you’re going to win every little antagonistic conversation with me? You know I’m not going to make it that easy for you every time you pull your shit, right?’

‘Whatever, pass me the shampoo,’ you say, sounding unfortunately sulky. 

He laughs at you, rubbing circles into your back. 

‘Come on, defeat isn’t that bad.’

You can't resist kissing his neck before you straighten up and take the bottle from him. You pull him towards the water to make sure his hair's properly wet before you pour shampoo onto your palm.

‘I've never washed someone's hair before,’ you realise.

‘You’re not going to accidentally scalp me, are you?’

‘I have to assume that it isn't that different to doing it alone. But then, that's how I approached my virginity and that did _not_ go well.’

‘Why? What happened?’

You reach up and start rubbing the shampoo into his hair. This is weird, your arms above your head and Dirk just letting you touch him like this. You dig your fingertips into him, trying to mimic what he was doing for you. You look at his face to try and assess whether you're doing it right. 

Oh fuck, he's so gorgeous. His eyes are closed, eyelashes are dark on his cheek and his face is relaxed and you need to not look at him anymore. You want to kiss him. You can kiss him later, now is hair washing time. 

‘Okay, storytime. I have had exactly one boyfriend and he's the dude who has the dubious honour of owning my virginity. One day, my family's out for the whole day so I invite him over, we think we're going to do this in style, day-long fuckfest, we're ready. Except I didn't realise that hot dude jerking me off would be roughly a billion times better than doing it solo and he got like two strokes in before the fuckfest was cut very short. He literally almost left but my ass is hard to resist so we got there.’

That's probably enough. You stroke down his arm before you pull him back into the water to rinse him off because you're an idiot. You like the way the soap makes his skin slick.

He wipes his face and runs a hand through his hair before opening his eyes.

‘Dude, you had me under the impression that your first time was an absolute catastrophe. That wasn’t shit in terms of bad sex experiences. A little embarrassing on your end, sure, but not terrible. I’ve had worse. Do you always exaggerate everything?’

‘Two strokes, Dirk. We stripped down naked, because we were idiot teens, he touched me twice and we had blastoff and he was only packing a semi. The definition of premature.’ Okay, maybe you're being a bit dramatic. ‘I'm convinced this was a factor in him dumping me.’ But why stop now when you're so good at it?

‘Do you think you can wash your body on your own?’

‘Nope,’ you say, grinning at him. ‘Okay, yes, but do it for me anyway.’

You grab the soap and start to rub it between your hands. You might have said you wanted him to wash you but he can go first. Good excuse to touch him more. The novelty will probably wear off soon, right? He just feels so nice.

‘I’d say two strokes is about the limit for a teenage virgin anyway. You seem to be forgetting that both teenagers and virgins tend to be really fuckin’ easy the first time around. Did you think that your superiority complex would really make you last longer than that? Besides, your ex is an asshole if that’s one of the reasons he dumped you.’

You soap up Dirk's arms and then the bit of his chest you can reach as he defends teenage you. You hug him to wash his back and kiss his neck without thinking, which now tastes kind of soapy so you probably should have waited. You squeeze his butt because it's there and then hand him the soap because you're not going to go full mother on him and clean him in anything other than a superficial way. 

‘Maybe you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Like you said, you were idiot teens. Just saying.’ 

He takes the soap and bends to clean the rest of himself before stepping with you to be the one more under the water. He starts rubbing the soap into your chest almost immediately, trusting the water to rinse him.

‘I'm being over-dramatic,’ you assure him. ‘I'm definitely over it. Though, I haven't had a boyfriend since. But both that and the break-up in question have more to do with me being a terrible boyfriend. I mean, you can imagine, you live with me.’

His hands feel nice on you, which shouldn't be surprising given they have literally every other time he's touched you too, but this is different to sex or sex-adjacent touching. It's like he's taking care of you. 

His touch is confident, like this isn't a big deal at all. Makes sense, he wouldn't spend so much time in the shower if he didn't love them and there's nudity involved so it's a good partner activity. Okay, if you're getting to the point where you're feeling vaguely jealous of faceless past dudes who might not even exist, you really need to find a cure for this crush thing. Maybe Google has the answer. Or Equius. He seems like the kind of dude that gets rejected.

‘I can’t really imagine,’ he says, which is a safe answer if you’ve ever heard one. ‘I don’t know jack shit about what you’re like when you’re in a relationship with someone. I’ve only ever seen the douchey roommate side of your personality. Unless that’s how you are in relationships too.’ He pauses, considering, even his hands stopping where they’re washing your back now. ‘Maybe you’re just... an acquired taste. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you aren’t exactly like other people.’

Is he being nice? Definitely trying to. But maybe you were fishing, he's not exactly hugging you like you did to him. Because he's better at this than you are, he's better at having flings without feelings. Yeah, this shower needs to end.

‘You flatterer,’ you tease, taking the soap from him. He's probably done. Close enough. ‘That's going on the dating profile.’

You clean yourself as quickly as you can without seeming like you're rushing away from him. Just, you know, taking a normal amount of time to shower, not attempting to turn into a full-body finger prune.

He sees it as a dismissal anyway, rinsing his hands of soap and stepping out of the shower.

‘I’m going to write up that list now,’ he says.

It's good that Dirk's leaving, that was why you took over washing yourself in the first place. You get an actual physical pain in your chest watching him go, though. That's such bullshit. You want your physical reactions to Dirk limited to boners and bite marks.

‘Hey, wait,’ you say as he makes himself ready to leave the room. ‘Let me see my love before you go.’ You stare at his ass, covered by his towel so he doesn't mistake your meaning. 

Not that there's any other thing he could be thinking. Even with your stupid feelings happening, love is a very strong and scary word that you don't feel the need to whip out, even in the privacy of your head. Though you're not one to be scared of words. You're just not feeling that particular emotion, not towards Dirk, anyway. You love lots of things. Your computer. Movies. That one apple and raspberry juice, that is a definite love right there. You're gonna get some of that when you're out.

He flips you off and you grin your best evil grin. It's kind of a relief when he leaves immediately after and you can drop the act though. The usual dynamic is secured, you won. 

Bad, feels bad. Feels like you can't even take in as deep breaths as you want, why the fuck are you like this. Fuck. You groan to yourself and stomp your foot, not that you let it fall with as much pressure as you want to. This fucking _hurts_. He's supposed to just be a hookup.

You turn off the shower and dry yourself, way too roughly at first. You take a breath, calm yourself, and dry off. You're being ridiculous. You walk out to your room and dress yourself. You hesitate in the hallway, watching Dirk writing in the kitchen and fucking pining, and then you get your ass into gear, checking the fridge instead of walking to him because that's what you need to do before you go shopping.

He walks over to you, but he just sticks his note to the fridge door.

‘I’ll pay you back for that and the curtains when I can get to an ATM,’ he says. 

He leaves the room without either of you saying anything more. You don't see a thing inside the fridge until he’s gone. Him leaving is an excellent cure for your focus, which seems to have decided that it's better off staying with Dirk than where you're pointing it. You make a mental list of shit you need before sticking Dirk's note to the back of your phone for safe keeping. 

You basically switch to auto-pilot once you leave the apartment (that might be a bit of blood there, probably should have another sweep through to make sure you didn't miss any) which means you have plenty of mental room left to obsess about what you're going to do about Dirk. In the end, you do the thing you always do when you don't know what to do. You call Peta.

‘Normal people call in daytime, Hal,’ they say when they answer the phone. 

‘Yeah, I've gone a bit nocturnal,’ you say.

‘Nooo! You were doing so well at being a functional adult! How are you ever going to make friends and maybe even meet someone, just sayin', if you're always cooped up in your room?’

‘I’ve been _really_ social, Peta, you have no idea.’

You regret saying that the second you do, even though you were already planning on telling them about it. You can practically hear their gossip nodes perk up.

‘Tell me more!’ they say, way too excited. You grimace.

‘I've been spending time with Dirk, that's all,’ you mutter. Peta screams. Fucking hell this was a mistake. You hear someone in the background telling Peta to calm the fuck down and you agree wholeheartedly. ‘It's not like that,’ you say.

‘Um, yes it obviously is! Dirk's a total hottie oh em gee, I love and support this so much. Do you love him!?’

‘I've got another call,’ you lie.

Peta gasps. 

‘That's not a no! That's not a no! AH! Hal, fuck! This is too exciting, can I come over? I want to see!’

‘We're not together, Peta, you'd just see a couple of dudes existing in the same house, same as usual. Unless we were boning I guess, but I'm pretty sure I could cool it on that if you were there.’

‘Okay, don't need to know that. That can stay Hal business. I do need to know if I'm getting a new brother and also what your thoughts are on napkin art. Some people find it tacky, but I think it's a matter of the quality of the napkins.’

‘Peta, I swear to God, if you're planning my wedding right now …’

‘I've had your wedding planned since I was eight, it's just about modernising it, baby! Hey, are you okay? You sound weird.’

They can always tell. That's why you talk to them, not Sollux or Equius, those dudes believe every lie you say or don't care enough to call you out. Peta has this special sense about you, you can't get away with anything with them. You're walking around in the freezing cold just to get their perspective on this but you can't _say_ that because you're you and they're your annoying younger sibling and they shouldn't be the one fixing your life. Maybe you shouldn't make it so hard on them. 

‘He doesn't like me back,’ you say.

‘Oh,’ Peta says, their voice suddenly a lot more sympathetic. ‘Did he say that or are you being Hal about it?’

‘He's ... we were ... chemically compromised the first time, but it was good, so we've done it again and he just does flings and I don't do boyfriends anyway.’

‘Oh my God, Hal, just say you were drunk, wow, you're such a nerd. And that means you haven't talked about it, right?’

‘We're roommates. I don't want to fuck everything up.’

‘So romantic,’ Peta breathes.

‘I hate you,’ you tell them, pulling the phone away from your ear to hang up on them. 

‘Talk to Dirk!’ they call before you manage to press the button. You roll your eyes. You don't know why you thought they'd have better advice than that, but they're always talking about romance, it was worth a shot. (It's good advice. You're just not likely to take it.)

You get the groceries home and spend a creepy amount of time staring at Dirk's closed door, wondering if you should take Peta's advice or not, before you wuss out and go back to your room. He'll come to you before sunrise, or you'll remind him, whatever. Maybe you'll talk then.

You probably should wait until after his curtains arrive and he can avoid you if he needs to. Sollux would let you crash at his if you really fuck it up, which is a better alternative to the last resort that is your parents. Not that anything is going to go wrong, you just need to know that if it does, you'll be okay.

You think of so many different ways to tell him how you feel. ("Knock knock." "Who's there?" "I love you." is currently winning, which doesn't say much for the competition.) It's like now that you've decided you're doing that (wait, when did you decide that?) you have to obsess over it.

It’s not until you hear Dirk’s keys in the door that you realise that he was never home to confess to anyway.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk finds out that there's more to vampirism than he thought and Hal finally admits that maybe the fact that he'd do anything for Dirk is reflecting some deeper feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned in the notes at the start that this is based on an RP and I'm almost caught up to the material I have! Rather than leave you without this universe that I'm way too attached to, I'm considering doing a parallel fic from Dirk's POV. Let me know if you're interested! 
> 
> And thank you so much to everyone who comments on this, every single one makes me so happy and I'm so lucky to have readers who take the time to do it! It really makes me feel like I'm connecting with you guys and inspires me to keep writing. :)

When you hear the front door open at midnight, your first thought is _typical Dirk_ before you remember that it really isn't supposed to be anymore. 

Shit, are you being robbed? Did Dirk sneak out? You look around your room wildly for a baseball bat or gun or something but the closest think you have is one (1) batarang. You hear the sound of vomiting before you can decide whether you're crazy for considering picking it up as a viable option for home defence. No criminal is breaking in somewhere to throw up in someone else's toilet.

You leave your room, feeling an insane amount of deja vu, and find Dirk, once again ejecting way too much blood from his body in the bathroom. At least this time the clean-up will be more manageable.

His heaves have room in between them now, more than just the space he needs to gasp down a breath, so you don't think he's dying. Though you’ve never heard of a sick vampire before. If this were you, you'd probably want privacy. You don't want to leave him to suffer alone. 

(You kind of want to shout at him and you _definitely_ want to make sure he didn't hurt anyone, but not now.)

‘Hey,’ you say, trying for a soft tone. ‘Want your hair holding?’

He turns so his head is resting on on of his arms clutching the toilet and glares at you. You've got your weight on your back foot, ready to abscond the fuck away if he seems in the mood to weaponize his vomit or something, but his gaze softens after a moment. He presses a hand to his forehead and brushes his hair out of his face.

‘No,’ he mutters, sounding like his vocal chords have taken a trip down the garbage disposal. ‘You can drive a stake into my chest if you’re up for it though. This fuckin’ sucks.’

Okay, time to push your luck. 

You pour your toothbrushes out of the glass they live in and fill it with water instead. You crouch down next to him and hold it out to him. 

‘I don't know if you can drink that, but you can rinse your mouth out at least?’

You touch your hand to his back. You don't really have experience in the comforting game, but your intentions are certainly showing up. You want him to feel better, a gentle back rub might ground him. Might just make you feel like you're doing something. You feel uncomfortably uncertain, and you’re so sure he’s going to see through you, tell you that you suck at this and force you into a fight that you just _can’t_ have. Not when he’s like this.

He rinses his mouth and spits the water out into the toilet. You reach up and flush the toilet so that you don't have to look at or smell it anymore. You definitely should be a nurse, you weren't nearly as squeamish as you could have been. Oh wait, no bedside manner. 

‘Why are you doing this?’ he asks. ‘Figured you’d just let me stew in here. Or scream at me.’

You stroke Dirk's hair back out of his face and then go back to rubbing him gently on the back. Okay, bit of bedside manner. Only because you're in feelings with him though. You can't go falling for every idiot you might want to treat. 

‘I'm way too cool to scream,’ you say. ‘I might super casually ask if you committed any crimes tonight and also what the fuck this means.’ Look at you, answering half the question. You're honestly fine with taking the coward's way out for now.

He turns back so that his face is buried in his arm. Should you turn the light off? You don’t know what he’s feeling or how to help and it’s killing you.

‘I doubt that,’ he says into his arm. ‘Not that I know of. And ... I don’t know.’ He pauses, and you’re just about to lose the fight with yourself about giving him space to answer when he continues. ‘Something about the guy I was with... His blood was just _wrong_ and it fucked me up. I don’t know how to explain it.’

You kinda knew. Like, why else would he leave? Where else would he go, if not where he always goes. He didn't like feeding on you, he didn't want to do that. The second he had an option that wasn't to force his way past your stubborn ass, he took it. 

Fucking hell, you're so jealous though. It's enough to almost make you glad it didn't work out for him, and that's ridiculous. Because you're really not glad he's suffering. And you're both relieved and vaguely disappointed he didn't at least kill the guy that did this to him. Ugh, why are you having so many emotions all at once?

‘Right. I guess all that can wait until you're feeling better. Can I get you anything? I don't even know how to look after human people …’ 

Your hand on his back is basically on auto-pilot now. He'd shrug you off if that was the wrong move, right?

‘No, I ... I think I just need to lay down,’ he mumbles. He finally picks his head up and looks at you. ‘Are you okay?’

You laugh awkwardly and then wince. That wasn't the reaction you should have had. Your hand seems to have stopped moving, so you take it back. 

‘I can't believe _you're_ asking _me_ if I'm okay,’ you say. ‘And I'm fine, I understand caring isn't my usual colour but I wear it okay. C'mon, I'll get you to bed.’

You pull his arm around you in a move that’s becoming more and more natural. You're gonna get so ripped from all this vampire lifting you've been doing. He's a lot colder than usual, and you don't think it's just that he's been out in the night. He just threw up a lot of blood. Maybe all he had. You wonder if he's unable to ask you for it or if he's still feeling too sick to be hungry. Bed first.

You lift Dirk up and relish in the weight he puts on you. You might be imagining it, but you don't think he was this willing to trust you when all this first started. You're getting closer and it isn't just you. Of course, fucking someone tends to make you a bit more comfortable with them being close to you. You wish you could just stick with your first, more confident assessment.

‘Sorry for sneaking out,’ he mumbles. You lean your head into his sympathetically.

‘It's okay,’ you say, and you _mean_ it. Like, not just in a “hey, I have no control over you” kind of way, or in a “meaningless reassurance” kind of way either. Everything's okay. You're gonna make sure it is. 

‘I thought you’d be pissed at me.’

You are. You’re not. He’s sick, you can’t fight with him and even if you could, you didn’t have an agreement or anything. Kind of the opposite, you think you’ve told him at least three times that this is all just sex and convenience to you, no matter what you were actually feeling, and you think you were even convincing. You didn’t even realise he was gone and all the panic that you would have felt if you’d known he was in danger is sitting somewhere in your throat waiting for you to acknowledge it. You’re not going to. You love him and he’s safe, that’s the end of it.

You get him into the bed and sit down with him because you have no idea how to manoeuvre him without doing that. 

‘So ... you …’ If there's a delicate way of asking this, you don't know it. You're not a delicate person. ‘Look, you just got rid of a shitload of your nutritional content, fuck, that was the worst way of phrasing it I could have chosen. Fuck. I mean, you've had a shit night. If you bite me, I swear I won't like ... make that worse. I can be a food source and fuck off or stay with you or whatever, I don't need ... I'm so bad at this. Tell me what you need, I'm here, you know?’

He presses his hands to his forehead, looking miserable. Definitely has a headache. 

‘I went out because I’m scared shitless of hurting you. I know you’ve told me to forget about that, but I can’t. I could have killed you when you baited me. I don’t want to do that.’ He won’t look at you. ‘I don’t think I can hold back tonight. I’ll fuck up and hurt you if I do. But ... I don’t want you to leave. Unless you want to.’

He looks wrecked. But he still wants you around. You nearly just blurt out that you love him right then, but you stop yourself because clearly this isn't the time. You don't want to hold him emotionally hostage, like he's got to respond to you or you'll leave when he wants you to stay.

‘I'll stay,’ you say instead. ‘And I'm not gonna pull the piss you off or cut myself trick on you, that isn't what I ... It's your choice, right? But I really don't see how waiting is going to help, and short of actually stumbling across a criminal who deserves the death penalty, which I signed a petition _against_ for the record, I don't know that going for someone else is going to help either. Especially when you know my blood isn't going to fuck you up like random dude's did.’

Is being relentlessly sensible the way to a guy's heart? You should be gentler on him, less pushy, but you can't just let shit sit, not when you know what the answer is. You stare at one of the wheels on your desk chair instead of him, because if you're going to push against his clear discomfort you might as well not add eye contact to the mix.

‘Waiting is the exact opposite of helping, but it isn’t like I’m all that enthusiastic about drinking blood. I went for someone else because I don’t want to risk killing you. I know it wasn’t smart, but I’m fucking terrified that I’ll go too far with you one day. I didn’t think getting fucked up on another person’s blood was even a thing. This was a shitty way to find out.’

He hesitates again, like he’s considering everything that you’ve said. You don’t risk looking at him. ‘I’m going to do it, but I don’t want you going easy on me if I don’t stop. Beat the shit out of me if you have to, I don’t care. I’d rather get a concussion than kill you.’

Oh damn. Is talking about shit like a mature person a thing that actually works? This is new and amazing information that you will never be taking advantage of again ever. 

‘Oh, good. Yeah, I mean, I'm absolutely willing to punch you.’

You are _not_ going to let the sexy, magic venom get to you. Hell, you want to kiss him right now and you're not going to. You're really good at this resistance thing. You're going to give him your blood and then you're going to cuddle him until he feels better and … you're already getting turned on, you're the worst human ever.

You give him an attempt at a reassuring smile and tilt your head to the side, waiting for him. You wonder if you can make this not a big deal and then eventually he might get used to it. Might be better when he doesn't need to do it as often, too.

You keep still as he approaches you, fast in a way you don’t think you’ll ever get used to, and don’t move as he bites you and wraps his arm around you. The effect is immediate, but you were expecting it and you keep your groan quiet, barely more than a sigh. 

You don't drink alcohol often, but last time you remember not being in the mood for it, not being willing to sink into the stupid happy feelings that Sollux, already a couple beers ahead of you, was already deep in. You drank enough to get drunk, you walked a bit unsteadily and got tired quicker than you should have, but it didn't quite touch you because you wouldn't let it. That's what you're trying to do here.

Except that this is so much harder. It's stronger, for one, and part of you doesn't want to resist it. His hand on your waist feels amazing, his leg is pressed up against yours and you want to touch him back. But you'll just pull him closer and what you need to do is prove to him that you can stop him, that he can trust you to take care of yourself. You need to be aware of what you're feeling.

You're doing well. You're rocking a fucking massive boner, but you're in control. You might squirm into the mattress a bit, but that's a lot less than you could be doing. God, he's so fucking hot. He’s holding the back of your shirt in between your shoulder blades now, and his grip on your waist is tight. It’d be so easy to reciprocate. 

It's not just that though. Much as you don't want to overstate this attraction business, what you've accidentally called “love” in your head a couple of times now, this is more than just thinking he's sex on legs. It feels good to be helping him, to be close to him. 

You could take him to pieces when he's done with this. 

No. Fuck. You're being good.

Okay, you can do this. You're starting to feel that coldness you associate with _maybe Dirk should stop drinking your blood now_. 

‘Dirk,’ you say, firmly and not at all like a horny idiot.

He doesn’t respond. 

Fucking hell, you can never just use your words with this guy. It's okay, you spoke as soon as you were feeling the first symptoms of “that's enough”, you've got time. You're not even feeling that bad. You're feeling great, actually, far too good to be the one making it stop.

‘Dirk, stop, or I'm going to punch you in your softest bits.’

He still doesn't respond, not that you give him a super long time. It's not worth it, he's counting on you to be able to stop him. You want to be able to look at him with focused eyes and tell him that you can control him even if he can't trust himself. 

You punch him in the throat, the sternum and the dick in three quick and solid hits. It probably should be a lot harder for you to hit someone you love. You blame it on the fact that you've been wanting to hit him much longer than you've been in love with him.

He lets go of you immediately and flinches way back, one hand on his neck and the other arm covering his crotch. His eyes might be watering a bit. Whoops.

‘Thanks,’ he says, voice strained. 

Mission accomplished. You let your hand fall as casually as you can into your lap where it can cover up the frankly impressive bulge you've got going on. You're a pretty normal size, but vampire venom does wonders for getting you up and ready with zero approval from you and most of your past tents have been pitched on less arousal than this.

He wipes at his eyes and blinks away fresh tears. You feel pretty fucking guilty, but you had to do it.

‘You're welcome,’ you say. You roll your neck even though you aren't feeling any soreness at all. ‘I'm a pretty rad victim. I come with post dinner cuddles, if you want.’

You hold your arms out to him, ready for him to tell you not to be a douche. You don't think you'd trust how you're being right now, but you're trying and you don't know how else to be. You want him to trust you anyway. You want him to see through your niceness and call you out for being in love with him, save you a fucking painful reveal. Saying "yeah," would be so much easier than having to say it properly.

He looks at you suspiciously for a second, but he doesn’t push it. He does get up though, which is the opposite of what you offered.

‘Let me go change first. Cuddling is a lot better with pajamas.’

He's just going to get changed, he's coming back. It still kinda feels like a rejection. You nod, though. He's not wrong. Your zipper is pressing the fuck into your boner, you definitely want to get into comfier clothes. (No clothes. Even without sex, you want to get skin to skin with him again.) It'll also be good to get a break from touching him to help with your pants situation.

‘Sounds good,’ you say, standing up too.

You take off your shirt and throw it in the corner before you start looking for your softest clothes to replace it with, not making any kind of deal about him leaving your room. 

What you need to do now is figure out a way to be soft as a fucking calico without sacrificing everything about your personality. You can't seem to stop being mushy with him, you want to at least be yourself at the same time.

You change and get into bed, breathing deeply and attempting to think non-sexy thoughts. All your thoughts lead back to Dirk no matter where they start (groceries > home > Dirk; Peta > love > Dirk; work > do that when Dirk's not around > Dirk) so you decide to think about the fact that he snuck out and drank some other dude's blood. You know, keep it as negative as you can.

If that's all he did. Not that it matters if he fucked him as well. You're not together. You could have broached the topic of your togetherness before, but you were being cowardly and you didn't realise this was a possibility. The only positive you've got from this is that he doesn't want to hurt you. And you don't think that's just because he'd be the prime suspect.

He comes back into your room looking tired as fuck, his hair messy and his posture low. Your chest does a very weird thing where it feels a bit tighter just from seeing him, but you ignore that and flip the covers back for him.

‘I thought about putting a movie on but you look like you wouldn't even make it past the opening logos,’ you say.

He climbs into bed, looking like he’s never wanted bed more and you put your arm around his waist and pull him closer to you without even thinking about it. When did you get this comfortable with him? Like you can just touch him without worrying or checking and that you _want_ to touch him even when there's no reason for it.

‘That’s just how I look. Insomnia, remember? One of the symptoms is looking like you’re barely conscious at any given moment.’

‘I'm tired too,’ you tell him, ignoring his attempt at deflection. ‘Ow, oh my God, your hair is a weapon like this.’

You brush his spiky hair out of your eyes and crunch it a bit in your hand so it doesn't come back to stab you. And then that feels pretty cool, so you decide that can continue. It'll be nicer for him to sleep on if you do it anyway.

‘’M not tired,’ he yawns. ‘My hair is not a weapon. You’re just weak and can’t tolerate how awesome it is.’

You stroke his hair and press a bit closer to him. You're not doing anything he isn't doing, it's fine. He's nice and warm and you can't believe cuddling him like this has you closing your eyes like you associate it with sleep now. You count down the seconds you have to hug people on their birthdays, it's so weird that you like this so much. 

‘Weakened _from_ your awesome weapon hair, maybe. You smell good, is that the gel?’ You sniff at his hair, even though it wasn't going to be anything else and kiss his forehead as you're up there. ‘Okay, dumb anime hair is approved. It looks good when you leave it natural too, though. And it doesn't stab me.’

Not that it matters if you approve. He can do his hair any way he likes, it doesn't affect you at all. Wouldn't even matter if you were his boyfriend, but, for the record, you'd support him through even a mullet. Probably. Damn, you're pathetic.

‘Mhm, probably. It’s scented. The shower from earlier might be playing a role in how I smell too. That or I just smell fuckin’ awesome regardless of either of those things.’ He’s leaning just the slightest bit back as if to give you better access to his head. You can’t believe he’s letting you do this. He kicked you when you touched it before he was going out a few months ago. ‘My “dumb anime hair” is the raddest shit out there. You’re just jealous and can’t handle some weaponized locks. My hair looks horrible in its natural state. It’s an unholy monstrosity and it’s a bitch to style.’

He's so fucking cuddly. You are not at fault for catching feelings here, you'd have to be completely heartless to not cuddle him back. You like the closeness so much. He kisses you on the cheek and you kiss his cheek back before nudging his nose with your own and kissing his lips.

‘I like your hair,’ you say. You kiss him again and he catches your cheek in his palm to keep you close. His lips are so soft and nice. ‘I like ... you.’ Whoops. Fuck. Bit more than just whoops. ‘Is that okay?’

That was really stupid of you. You were going to wait. He's sick, he has to sleep in your bed, you don't need to put your stupid feelings on him. You look at a strand of his hair that's sticking out from the rest because of your half-assed combing instead of his face. You feel so tense, you're ready to go and sleep on the couch if you've fucked everything up.

It takes forever for him to respond and you can't seem to move a fucking inch while you wait. You don't even dare glance at him. Why did you say that? (At least it's out there.)

‘Yeah,’ he says, once he’s apparently finished with his statue impersonation. ‘I... like you too.’

Your heart seems to restart after not informing you that it had stopped in the first place when he replies and you can look at him again. He likes you too. Okay. Fuck, where do you even go from here? Are you smiling? Fuck, too much. You lean in and kiss him to stop yourself from outright grinning at him. 

‘Cool,’ you say. ‘Cool, um, right, good to know.’ 

You're still smiling way too much, so you turn your head into the pillow and will yourself to calm the fuck down. He said he likes you! Five more seconds of being an idiot, then you're going to be back to normal, cuddle up to Dirk (who likes you) and go to sleep.

He kisses the back of your neck while you’re hiding and makes the five seconds thing jump out a very tall window. Nope, this is too much to get over that quick.

‘So what, we exchange some fairly important shit and you decide to hide in a pillow?’

You have no control over your face yet, and this is way too happy to be after this pretty lowkey exchange, so you're reluctant to stop hiding. Okay, it's a big deal for you, you don't say shit like this, and he's saying it's not a small deal either. In the end, it's the fact that hiding is really stupid that makes you stop.

‘I'm not hiding,’ you say, because you're not anymore. You press your hand into your cheek, which refuses to stop smiling. ‘Can we talk about something else so this stops happening? You broke my face, fucker.’

You run your hand slowly down his back. You can stop justifying every touch as appropriate for whatever you're doing. You're touching him because you like him and he likes you back and well, this is really not helping the smiling situation.

‘You totally were. Shoving your face in a pillow is definitely a form of hiding, Hal.’ He shakes his head, but he’s smiling too. ‘Sometimes I really do doubt that you’re human. Smiling is normal for most people, you know. I didn’t break your face. If I did, I probably wouldn’t fix it. You’re cute like this.’

You stop trying to make yourself stop smiling and press your forehead to his instead, the tips of your noses almost touching. He thinks you're cute. Because he likes you. You feel enormous with happiness.

It's so easy to touch him, to lean into his cuddle and stroke his back, to tangle your legs with his so you can get even closer. Everything feels so soft and nice. You're kind of wondering why you've avoided anything like this before now. Not that this is technically a _relationship_ , but you don't think you have the guts to ask him out properly and fix that after you already did the feelings confession thing. You're going to need to check the internet for vampire dating tips because suddenly you can't think of a single place to go that doesn't involve food or sunshine.

‘I don't even think it’s stopping anyway,’ you say. ‘Not if you keep hugging me and I'll still know you like me. What did I even do to get this? Was it my sweet body?’

He kisses you, maybe to make you shut up. Then he kisses your cheek, your nose, and randomly all over your face until you think you might just die. It’s too much, your heart is too full, the human body was not meant to keep this kind of feeling inside it. If he kisses you any more, you just might explode, guts all over the walls. He kisses you again and you make a tiny noise in your throat instead of exploding. His lips are so soft and nice. 

‘Nah, though your body is pretty damn sweet. I think ... I don’t know.’ He’s blushy and smiley too, and you decide to take over, kissing his cheek and sneaking a kiss for his lips in between his sentences. ‘I can’t really explain it. You’re easier to crush on when you aren’t constantly being an antagonistic asshole.’

‘I'm still gonna be antagonistic,’ you assure him. ‘I can't think of anything to be a dick about right now, but there's something out there. Come back to me when I'm less puddle-shaped.’

‘Oh, I’m aware. I didn’t say you weren’t being an antagonistic asshole at all. Antagonism is like the core part of your personality.’

‘Good. Wouldn't want to disappoint you about five minutes in when I do think of something stupid to say.’ 

‘So you acknowledge that the shit you spew is stupid?’

You stop trying to talk when clearly you'd rather be kissing him. You stroke your thumb along his cheekbone as you kiss him, slow and lazy. 

You love his eyes so much. Mmm and his everything. You're starting to get over the adrenaline rush you gave yourself from accidentally confessing to him, leaving you with what's almost but not quite a crash. You're almost relieved that you get to close your eyes to kiss.

‘’M getting tired,’ you mumble against his lips. 

‘I’m getting tired too,’ he admits. ‘Should probably sleep.’

‘I like you.’ It bears repeating. You can say it as much as you like now. (So long as you don't escalate and drop the scarier L word on him by accident.)

‘I like you too. A lot.’ 

You can't possibly fall asleep all tangled up with Dirk like this. One of your arms will fall asleep or one of you will breathe too loudly or _something_ , but it's hard to care enough to move even a little bit away from him. You don't want to just spoon him, you like his arms around you too. And you want to kiss him forever, even while you’re sleeping. You’ll figure it out. 

You move a bit, despite your reluctance, nuzzle in his neck where you can still kiss him but it doesn't matter if you drift off. You sneak your hand under his shirt to touch his bare back. He's colder than you expected, given how close you're cuddled together, but he's soft and already warming where you touch him. 

‘Just roll me away if it gets too much,’ you say. You feel ridiculously content.

‘I don’t think it’ll come to that,’ Dirk laughs sleepily.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the encouragement, I'm starting to post Dirk's POV to go along with this. [Find it here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19077022/chapters/45319084)
> 
> Sex scene starts with: "He'll tell you if you're being too much in whatever way, but you haven't yet." and ends with "‘I …’ love him. You love him."

When you wake up you're facing away from Dirk, legs still tangled and his arm’s around your waist. The weight of it is comforting as fuck, and even better is when you remember where you left things last night and that you're allowed to cuddle him closer. You pull his arm up towards your chest and shift back a little, even though he's almost completely pressed against you as it is. This might be the best way you've ever woken up.

You savour the moment for a bit, before lifting his hand to your lips briefly and rolling around to face him. His hair is a ridiculous mess after sleeping in whatever product he uses and he looks tired as hell, but he's fucking stunning. You wrap your arm around him and get nice and close to him.

He opens his eyes blearily, kisses you on the cheek and closes them again. He's practically still asleep, and you're not quite sure why you find that so hopelessly endearing but you do. It's like he's softer. You stroke his hair back and kiss him gently and slowly along his jaw. 

‘G’morning,’ he mumbles.

You don't really need to wake him up properly. You could get up and eat, get yourself organised. You kinda wish you could make him breakfast and bring it back while he's still sleepy, but short of dressing up your neck somehow that's not happening. Though it would be funny and you'd like to see if that would annoy him another time. 

‘Good morning,’ you whisper instead. ‘You don't have to get up.’ His arms are still holding you, and it's not as easy to get out of them as you'd thought. Not when you don't want to disturb him. ‘Let me up, though.’

He does exactly the opposite, frowning slightly and squeezing you closer. You melt a bit. But then he clearly realises he can’t keep you prisoner and rolls over to hug a pillow instead of you, making a grumbly noise in his throat.

‘You should stay in bed,’ he says.

You were the one who asked him to let you go, but you're actually cross at him for doing as you said. You follow him and wrap your arms around his waist, kissing his neck. He has soft skin, you like the feel of the tiny hairs under your lips. 

‘Okay. I'm convinced. Forever? 'Cause I'll stay in bed forever. Who needs to leave? That was obviously a bad idea, you're so clever for finding a way around that.’

You can almost reach his ear with your lips. You can nudge it, probably even lick it, but you can't grab it like you want to. You move back to his neck instead, nuzzling against him.

‘Mhm, I _am_ clever. Getting up is a stupid idea. Staying in bed forever is ten times better. You don’t need to do responsibilities or any of that shit.’

He moves within your arms to face you again and your lips meet almost automatically. You cuddle him closer and kiss him back. You rub his arm slowly, trying to warm it up. That might be a useless project, but you can think of worse occupations than being Dirk's heater. You've definitely felt him warmer than this. 

‘At least ten times better.’ You kiss him again. He still looks half-asleep. ‘Okay, half an hour tops, then responsibilities. I probably have a billion emails. You're very distracting.’

‘ _Only_ half an hour?’ he groans. His voice is barely coherent, it’s fucking adorable. ‘That’s not fair. You should stay here with me for like, two hours. Go back to sleep. Emails and responsibilities don’t matter.’

You find your arm pinned underneath you and pull it out so you can read your watch. It's late afternoon, no surprise there, you got to bed well before sunrise. You're going to need to make a more formal bedtime at some point, especially if you're flipping with Dirk. And you want to do that. 

‘One hour,’ you say as compromise.

‘Fine.’

You stroke your hand down his back until you reach his ass and squeeze it and he pokes you in the ribs. You smile before stroking back up. He has such a nice body, you want to spend way more than an hour just lazily touching him, but you have to put a limit on it or you'll actually end up hibernating with him until you get kicked out of the apartment for not keeping up with rent.

‘Your obsession with my ass is bordering on worrisome,’ he mumbles. ‘Are you just hanging with me so you can get close to my ass? Is that your goal?’

‘I wasn't gonna tell you, but I'm actually from a secret religion. We all worship your ass, but I'm here as like a missionary. I don't know if I'm using that word right, whatever, the point is, I'm gonna get up real close and personal, get my divine knowledge on your ass and then report back. Probably need to write a whole new bible, but I'm up to the challenge.’

You lower your hand back so you can knead at his ass like a cat, squeezing and then pressing it and feeling it move under your hand. It's almost like a massage, except you're probably getting a bit more out of the feeling than the typical masseuse should.

‘I’m beginning to think you need therapy or some shit. I know I have a good ass, but something tells me that it’s unhealthy to worship it as a divine entity. My ass is an ass. There’s nothing holy about it.’

He manages to grimace against your bullshit without even opening his eyes, but you think you’re starting to wake him up. He slides a hand down to your ass as if you’re likely to make anywhere near the fuss he does about it. It feels _nice_. He’s just allergic to attention.

‘You know, your ass is pretty impressive too. You’re missing out,’ he says.

‘My ass stops traffic, I'm not under any inferiority complex regarding my ass. _Yours_ deserves temples, though.’ 

‘I swear to god, I will personally destroy any temples to my ass that you attempt to make. Asses don’t need temples. My ass doesn’t need a temple just because you’re in love with it.’

You hesitate on your response, wondering whether you're allowed to just touch him however you want. Grabbing his butt isn't exactly innocent but it's not overly suggestive either, you could do this casually. Crawling under the covers and showing him how serious you are about this worship thing with your tongue is a different thing.

Oh, you can just ask him. This whole communication thing's actually good.

‘Can I eat you out? Is it too early in the morning to be asking that? Afternoon, but like, the mood of morning. Should mornings slash the time after sleeping be for cuddles and not for me thinking with my dick? I have no idea how to act in a—um, not-one night stand.’

That sure was a smooth save, he absolutely would never guess you nearly said relationship. You're an idiot, and you deserve the redness you can feel colouring your face.

He strings you on so long after you ask that you think he's going to tell you you're either being too forward or too timid, you can see it going either way and you're really not used to thinking this hard about what other people are thinking about you to begin with. 

‘Who would be stupid enough to pass up that offer? I think mornings slash the time after sleeping can fit cuddling and your dick thoughts.’

You practically feel all your tension and doubt go away. You can do this. He'll tell you if you're being too much in whatever way, but you haven't yet. You kiss him enthusiastically, pulling his hips to yours and holding him by the waistband of his pants. 

You're not in a terrible rush, but you also like that he's still waking up. He's so relaxed and soft like this, you kind of want to take advantage of that rather than wake him with kisses and touches. You pull his pants and underwear down past his ass and to his thighs before scooting down under to nuzzle at the v of his waist. His skin is amazingly soft under your lips.

He strokes your hair back and continues to play with it lazily.

‘Hal,’ he murmurs. ‘You’re too good.’

You reach down to his knees and gently push him until he's turned away from you. You don't bother to take his pants all the way off, so he kicks them off himself once he realises you’re not freeing him. 

You kiss at the small of his back and knead at his ass and thighs. He has the most wonderfully soft skin. It's even nicer under your lips than it is under your fingers. You stroke down his thigh before taking your hand away just long enough to rearrange yourself in your pants. You don't want to have to mess with that once you're properly invested in what you're doing. 

You bring your hand back to his ass and spread his cheeks gently. You stroke your fingertip down to his hole just to tease and feel before you lean in and lick. Fuck it's nice to feel him opening up for you. You lick him slow and steady, keeping to the outside for now.

‘You really know how to wake a guy up, huh?’ Dirk says, his voice uneven.

You hum in agreement as you lick him again. Yeah, this is basically the best way to start your day as well, he feels amazing against your tongue. You press further into him for a moment, and hum again, almost a moan, because you want him to know how much you're into it.

You pull back enough to bite the meat of his ass cheek. He groans and even leans into your teeth a bit.

‘You know it. Fuck you're sexy.’ 

You kiss the slightly red mark you left on his ass before you get back to him. You suck gently at his rim before you push your tongue inside him. He's relaxed and perfect, it's not hard to start thrusting into him. 

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he moans.

You stroke your hand up his thigh until you reach his dick and can feel his hard on. You squeeze him and moan again, pressing the heel of your hand in between his legs as you hold his dick in your fingers. He gasps and grinds his hips in tiny movements.

You lick messily at his hole, letting your tongue catch on his rim and press inside briefly on some licks, kissing and sucking on others, listening to his moans to find what he likes most. You keep forgetting to move your hand at the same time, too caught up in what you're doing with your mouth, but his movements remind you whenever you're still for too long. 

You lift his leg over your head so that he moves onto his back and he grabs your hair as if it’s a lifeline as soon as you’re in reach. You lick from his ass to his dick without pausing to make sure he’s settled. You replace your fingers over his asshole as you take his dick into your mouth. 

He tastes so good, you let your mouth go into a sucking autopilot as you focus on running your finger around the rim off his ass. You love how much he's affected by this, desperate little noises coming from him almost constantly, so you can't help but tease him for a bit before you bury your finger deep inside him.

‘Hal, holy shit,’ Dirk whines. ‘You’re so fucking hot.’

You suck your way off his dick and bite his thigh as you thrust your finger in and out of him. You lick at your middle finger and his ass before licking back up to his dick again. Oh god he's hot and tight and you're so into this. 

You love the tugging feeling of his hand in your hair. You lean into him and let him guide you. You fuck him harder with your fingers and groan against him. You're getting worked up to the point where you have to thrust your hips against the mattress. 

You want to get your dick in him so badly but you're loving this too much to stop. 

‘Hey,’ he pants. ‘You should get up here.’

You give his dick one last lick. You keep moving your fingers as you bite his thigh and then his hip, working your way up his body with your teeth, kissing him when you're maybe a bit too rough and pulling his tank top up as you go until you’re high enough to pull it off.

You reach his face and give his neck a long, luxurious hickey as if you're the bloodsucker before kissing him on the lips. He's so distracting as he kisses you back, you love the way your bodies fit together.

‘Hey,’ you say, as if you've just run into your friend down the street rather than had your tongue up his ass. ‘You wanted me here?

He tugs your shirt up and off you impatiently, fingers already finding your nipples while you’re still disentangling yourself, and before you’ve gotten used to the already established fact that Dirk’s handsy as fuck when you put yourself in his reach, he’s reaching into your pants to rub teasing patterns into the head of your dick with his thumb. 

‘Fuck yeah,’ he says, kissing you enthusiastically again. ‘Your mouth is fucking amazing. I think the deity you’ve been looking to worship has been under your nose this whole time, not below my back.’

You lean into his touches and swear against his lips as he wraps his fingers around your dick. It's not enough, he's teasing you, and it's so good. You put more of your weight on him as you kiss him, you almost want to smother him. He looks way too satisfied with himself as he starts to stroke you with actual intention and you can’t remotely pretend his smugness isn’t earned.

‘Sorry babe, your ass demands monotheism.’ You reach down and grope him. ‘Don't want to get kicked out of church when I'm this devoted. That'd be a tragedy.’

You kiss him again, and reach towards your bedside table where you didn't even bother putting the lube back in the drawer last time. You can't quite reach while maintaining the kiss, but you only leave his lips for a second and then you're back. 

‘Can I fuck you now?’ you ask.

‘If you think you can handle it.’

You bite his lip in retaliation even though you know it isn't any kind of punishment for him. You think the way to actually punish him would be to back off and make him beg for you, but you don't have the patience for that. 

Instead you lean on your elbow so you can dribble lube onto your fingers and reach down to coat your dick with it. You press your face into his neck as you stroke yourself, taking your time so you don't come the second you push into him from the sudden increase in sensation. He kisses your hair and you have to close your eyes against the sweetness.

‘I can’t say I ever took you as the type to be this devoted to any particular religion, even one centered around an ass,’ he says, running his fingers distractingly up and down your spine. 

‘Wouldn't be as impressive if I was already the devout type,’ you say. ‘If gods were catching my eye left and right then it'd be basically old news if I suddenly came across your ass and found that it was my new theological fling. No, your ass is special.’ 

‘You sure you want to be monotheistic though? I know you’re hellbent on worshipping my ass and no one else’s, but I think there’s other parts of me you appreciate too. My ass might be special, but I think you’re exaggerating its holiness here.’

You take your hand away from your dick and top up the lube on it before reaching down to press two fingers back in his ass. They go in easy thanks to your thorough work earlier, so you barely leave them in for a second before replacing them with your dick. His breathing stutters and he grabs your hair roughly.

You manage to turn your groan of pleasure into words as you keep pressing deep inside him, ‘Fffuck, I know you're right, but oh my God.’ You hold for a few seconds to let him relax, adjusting to the tightness yourself. ‘Hard to even think about how much I like the rest of you when I'm feeling this.’

You start to move, hand on his ass and pulling him towards you as you thrust in again. He feels so fucking good, lifting his hips up to work with you, and you can't get close enough to him. You're pressed as low as you can without ruining the angle you need to fuck him as you gradually increase your pace.

‘Okay, fuck, you're hot as the bottom of my old laptop after the fan got fucked up and those burns lasted weeks. This is why they don't send monks out of the monastery, you interact with the holy ass and then all of a sudden you realise there's even more to worship and fuck if I don't want to worship every damn part of you.’

Your voice doesn't sound even a bit controlled as you ramble ridiculously, but you can't stop once you've start and you're just lucky you managed to keep it stupid rather than blurting the "l" word while balls deep in him.

Dirk hid his face in your neck at the beginning of your comparison, and you can feel his laughter in the small shakes of his body and his breath puffing on your neck.

‘You know you’re a fucking dork, right?’ he asks. He kisses and nips your neck all over in a way that makes you think he really doesn’t mind. ‘I think the most romantic thing I’ve ever been compared to is definitely a shitty laptop. You should become a poet, I think it would suit you.’

‘Nngh, don't have the RAM for rhyming right now, check back in later when I'm not sex-stupid.’

You kiss him desperately as if that will give you something to focus on and suddenly you won't be rapidly approaching orgasm anymore but it doesn't work of course, it just feels amazing. 

‘Can compare you to better than that though, fuck, you're …’ 

It's too hard to focus on anything that isn't his tight heat squeezing the goddamn _life_ out of your dick.

His grip on your hair jerks as you move and that almost pain goes right to your dick right along with his fingers on your nipples. You groan as he pinches them and your hips stutter a bit in their rhythm. You speed up as if it was intentional, like you're just finding your speed.

His lips and teeth feel amazing against yours, and the _noises_ he's making ... You wish you could record them, you want to hear him like this forever. You couldn't be any more turned on. 

‘Can I ... Can I bite you?’ he asks, and you know he’s not talking about the tiny nips he’s given you.

You whine hopelessly and bite into his shoulder to keep yourself from coming on the fucking spot, that's so hot. You lick the indents your teeth left as you nod as much as you can. 

‘Yes, yes, oh my God.’ Last time he bit you during sex you got a second wind and even though you're almost desperate to come now, you want his fangs in you. You lean your head to the side and hold still so he can get at you. ‘You're so fucking hot.’

You can feel his breath on your neck and it's driving you crazy. You press your lips to his shoulder and clutch him tighter.

‘You’re fucking gorgeous,’ he says. 

He kisses you teasingly along the neck until you think he might want you to beg for it, and just when you’re about to, you feel his fangs stab into you. 

You stop thrusting, you can’t help it. You’re too focused on the feeling. You're not opposed to mixing up pleasure and pain, you've played with it a bit, but it's never come close to feeling like this. This feels like what you're aiming for with that. _Intensity_. You can't keep yourself from moaning and you don't think you even want to.

And then the high starts, all the heightened sensitivity and awareness and your impulse fucks off to who gives a shit where. His skin is soft against yours, everywhere you touch feels unspeakably distracting, almost oversensitive. You bury yourself deeper and the sweet tightness of him around you makes you whine again.

" _Oh-my-God_ ," you groan, and you start moving again, almost more grinding than what you were doing before, not wanting to jostle his fangs even a bit. You could almost cry it feels so good, it's like you're on the very edge of orgasm but you know it's not going to end yet, you've got a magic reason to stay a bit longer in the best feeling you can get.

He pulls back on his own, and licks and kisses where he bit you with slow, careful movements. He cups your face with his hand and guides you back to face him. His eyes are on fire and you’ve never seen anything more stunning. 

You feel light and weightless while also filled with urgent energy. Dirk guides you into a kiss and it's lucky he's got some amount of control because you really don't. You kiss him back and lean into his hand on your cheek because he feels so good, you can close your eyes and let your body do all the thinking.

‘Fuck, Dirk,’ you groan against his lips. You love the way you can let your kisses get messy and talk through them, there's absolute perfection in the way that you don't have to be perfect for him. He's got enough perfect to share, anyway. ‘You're so hot, oh _fuck, yes_.’

You're actually on the edge now, not just flirting with it, and you reach down to take his dick in your hand and squeeze, just as you come in him and your hips stutter and freeze because your brain can't handle it.

He almost screams your name in between swears as he climaxes too.

You let go of his dick and lean into his chest and grasp at his shoulders. His ass clenches around you and you make a broken almost-sob of a noise. Holy fuck, you couldn't possibly feel better than you do at this moment. You kiss messily at his collarbone.

‘Oh my God,’ you groan. ‘Oh ... my God.’ You let yourself slide out of him and fall heavily to his side. You lean your head on his shoulder and work towards catching your breath. If you don't get fitter doing this all the time, you're going to have some protests.

‘I …’ love him. You love him. You catch yourself just in time before you say it. You reach up lethargically so you can kiss him instead. ‘Fucking hell. I'm crazy about you.’ That was not much more subtle. You can't bring yourself to care, you feel stupidly relaxed. Your arm and leg are heavy over his body.

He kisses your cheek, long and lingering, and you find yourself wondering if maybe he isn’t right there with you on the feelings front. He kisses you again, gently and slowly and all over your face, and strokes his fingers through your hair. You feel like he's making your very soul feel quieter, soothed. You close your eyes for a few seconds, breathing in the smell of him and letting yourself feel taken care of.

‘I thought you were crazy for my ass?’ he says, still a bit breathless, amusement under his words. ‘Is that devotion wavering now? My ass is a monogamist, remember? We’ve been over this.’

‘Shit, wasn't expecting to find competition,’ you laugh. ‘I can't believe you're this good in bed. I can't believe I ever wasted my time trying to piss you off. Dicking about passive-aggressively rearranging the fridge when I could have been begging you to do this.’

And this is why you were even vaguely hesitant, because you're even more reluctant to leave him than you were before and you really did mean to get things done today. You hug his waist and press your face into him. You're not going to think about that yet, this is just really nice.

‘Did you think I was terrible in bed before?’ he asks, putting a hand to his chest in a pantomime of offense. ‘I think I can manage getting dicked down, shit.’

You poke your tongue out at him and he kisses it. Loser. Holy fuck do you love him.

‘Sometimes your passive aggressive shit is fun. Competition is entertaining until we get obsessive about it,’ he says. 

‘We can do both,’ you say hesitantly. ‘Can we do both? Is that weird? I like competing too, even if I always win.’ You smile at him cheekily, fully expecting him to not let you get away with saying that.

That's the thing, though. It's shifted from you actively wanting to annoy him, to wanting to _play_ , basically. You might have been playing for a while, actually. Getting his attention. Making him respond to you. Eating him out is a _better_ way of getting him to notice you, but you want to still have fun in other ways. You bet you can even find ways to bring this up in your games from now on.

‘Do you have amnesia or something? You know, I think I can recall you pouting like a kindergartner in the shower because you lost,’ he says, nudging you with his elbow. 

You grin stupidly at him, remembering that you lost because you weren't willing to admit you like him and you can do that now. And he's beaten you before, too, even if you think you're definitely in the lead. It wouldn't be nearly as fun if he couldn't keep up.

‘I don't think that happened,’ you say. ‘Doesn't sound like me at all. We could shower again, see if the scene of the alleged incident jogs my memory, but I'm thinking it didn't even happen so why dwell on it.’

You stroke your hand down his side as you talk. He's so nice to touch. Showering with him would make it easier to bear getting out of bed and therefore might actually make you do shit with your day, and you also can't help but be a little excited by the whole novel process of showering with someone.

‘I’m beginning to think that you’re bullshitting me or you have something wrong with you. Probably both, but it’s too early to unpack that right now. If you _really_ can’t remember, fine. I’m not passing up a chance to see you sulk again.’

‘I don't sulk,’ you say immediately. Do you? No, definitely not. 

‘Right, because that pouty face you put on in the shower and the way you complained about me turning the tables on you weren’t sulky at all.’

He gives you a quick kiss on the lips and starts to sit up, struggling past your arms. You accept his kiss despite him teasing you because if you refused him kisses for teasing you you probably wouldn't get to kiss him nearly as much.

You join Dirk sitting and stretch your neck out before climbing out of the bed. You could get used to starting your day like this. Maybe not every day, that'd be insane. Actually, three times in a week may be breaking your record as it is. You've happily gone months without seeking sex out in the past. Granted, you haven't had sex like this before. 

‘Hey, are you doing okay after last night?’ you ask as you stand up. Still feels weird not to be dressed for any length of time in your room. Maybe you need a robe.

‘I can’t say that I don’t feel like shit, but I can say that it’s not nearly as bad as last night. I’ll be alright.’

He gets to his feet slower and actually staggers a bit when he’s upright. You hold your arm out automatically and frown with concern. You don't like that his bar for feeling okay is just "better than death". You kind of feel guilty for having sex with a guy who looks like he's going to fall asleep standing up. At least he ate without making a fuss.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sex scene incoming, see end notes for skipping details and also some other stuff to keep in mind, especially if you're uncomfortable with mildly dubious consent.

Dirk steadies himself without your help and rolls his eyes when you keep close to him as you lead the way to the bathroom. 

‘I can walk, man. Promise,’ he says.

It's not like you were going to object to extra touching, even if keeping your boy-roommate standing isn't the most romantic reason for skin contact, but you’re okay with him being all independent too. It kinda surprises you when he takes your arm after that. The way he keeps close to you makes you think it might be more out of affection. Your heart does something stupid and completely unrelated to its traditional functions.

‘We should try and figure out if the guy had something or if you're like ... allergic to B positive or something,’ you say, as if everything’s normal. _You’re in love_ , how can you possibly treat this as normal? ‘And maybe do smaller but more frequent _meals_ , that's what works on normal sickness.’

‘I wouldn’t call it sickness. It’s like a shitty hangover that has its own personal brand of a headache. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Are vampire blood allergies a thing?’

He pulls away to flick the light on and comes back immediately as if he’s on elastic. You think mostly he’s cold. You didn't notice when you were under blankets and getting up in his business, but now that he's in the open air it's like he can't hold onto his heat at all. You wonder if you should ease the water warmer so it doesn't burn him. 

‘I have no idea, you're the first vampire I've met,’ you say. ‘I haven't seen anything online, but I haven't really made much of an effort to go darker than Reddit yet. I gotta assume there's better info out there.’

You reach and turn the shower on and get your hands on him again immediately, rubbing warmth into his arms before you get in the water. It's an absolutely doomed mission, but you get to touch him and despite the fact that you're starting to get goosebumps yourself just chilling with no clothes on, you want to keep doing that.

‘I know a couple,’ he says. ‘And I’m pretty sure Rose is dating a vampire. Or they’re just ridiculously close. I can ask her.’

You step into the shower and he follows on your heels. He knows vampires. That's useful, and better than the Internet or starting from scratch, going to one of those clubs and trying to make a friend. And one's a girl and Dirk's as gay as you are as far as you know so ... Not that you'd be jealous. That'd be ridiculous.

‘Can I wash your hair again?’ he asks.

‘Go for it, dude,’ you say. You can't believe he's asking you for this, it's a treat for you.

You dip your head into the water and nudge your forehead into his shoulder. Well, that was a strange affectionate impulse you just followed. He kisses the top of your head before running his fingers through your hair, getting it wet all the way to the roots. 

You're officially over your height complex when it comes to Dirk. You're happy to be the short one if it means he can kiss you so easily. You're not going to _tell_ him that though. You're just gonna hope he keeps taking advantage.

‘Cool, yeah, introduce me,’ you say, responding to his friendpire revelation. ‘It'd be good to get an actual reliable source from a real vampire. Not that you're not ... you know what I mean. I find you very impressive and scary.’

‘I was just going to text Rose and see if she could get any info from Kanaya. I can’t believe you don’t think I’m a real vampire, I’m clearly the most terrifying noob vampire on the block.’

‘Right, texting's a thing,’ you say. ‘Whatever works. Get some lessons on vamping it up while you're at it, maybe then I'll be properly intimidated.’

‘I don’t need lessons. I’m obviously intimidating as hell already. You’ve just been desensitized to my scariness. That tends to happen when you have sex multiple times with a human mosquito.’

You hum vaguely in agreement. His fingers in your hair feel so nice, it’s hard to rise to his banter. He's moving a bit more lethargically than last time he washed your hair, which makes sense, he still looks exhausted. But his touch is firm and you're blissed the fuck out.

He takes his hands away for a second to get the shampoo and then they’re on you again. You sigh contendedly.

‘Remember when you said you weren’t soft? You’re a fucking liar,’ he says.

You hold his waist to keep yourself steady as you close your eyes. You stroke along his hipbone with your thumb. Damn, you're lucky. You can just touch him and his skin is soft and warming in the shower (is he basically cold-blooded now?) and you get head massages and okay, yeah, you might be a bit soft.

You can't help it though, he's worn you down by proximity and exposure for ages, of course you trust the guy you see most in the world, and now you get to kiss him and he's a cuddly bastard and whatever, it isn't actually a bad thing. 

‘Okay, give me a minute, I can get hard again,’ you drawl. You open your eyes just enough to wink at him. You're not sure that's true, but you've heard of dumber reasons to have sex than taking a pun too far. Might not even be the first time you've used that reason.

He laughs and flicks you on the head before continuing on with massaging your head.

‘You’re such a dumbass,’ he tells you. His voice is just as fond as it was when he told you he liked you. 

You move with him as he pulls you into the water a moment later without opening your eyes. It feels strange, like you might unbalance, but you trust him. Even after the forehead flick. He could have gone harder with that. That's kind of sweet. 

‘I’m curious to see if you really can though.’

‘For real?’ you ask. You squint your eyes open despite the water and soap to try and gauge his seriousness. ‘'Cause I'm pretty sure if you just let me scope out your ass for half a minute, I probably can. It's a superpower, dude. I'm getting so many more boners than I'm used to since ... this. I'm usually pretty chill.’

Mmm, naked Dirk. Yeah, you can probably get worked up. What is _up_ with your sex drive? It's either new-relation—not-a-relationship or it's vampire bullshit. Either way, you're cool with it. 

You move closer to him and press your lips to the base of his neck, which is basically your favourite part of him to kiss. Actually, you can think of six others off the top of your head. You got it bad.

He wipes the soap and water off your face and kisses you on the cheek.

‘Sure,’ he says.. ‘I don’t think popping boners like a teenage boy qualifies as a superpower though. You’re just really fucking horny. Besides, that would be the shittiest superpower ever. What would your name even be?’

He pulls his fingers through your hair one last time, the texture a bit rougher now that the shampoo is rinsed out, and kisses you along the jaw. You shiver a bit. You step a bit closer to him, not that there's much closer to get and turn your head to catch his lips with yours. _Damn_ the two of you are good at kissing. 

‘Rocket Man,’ you say against his lips. ‘And I think it's gonna be a long long time. Like I'm gonna last long, not that there's gonna be ages between—’ You need to just trust him to get the joke rather than fall into the trap of over-explaining. 

‘Oh my god. You are such a fucking dork. You know that, right? You act like hot shit but you are literally the dorkiest person I have ever met. And that is a _terrible_ name for a superhero with boner powers, holy fuck.’

You grin as he tells you off and stroke down his side to his ass to grab a handful. Just as good as seeing it. Better, actually. You have no idea how you're supposed to fuck him in the shower, of the shower scenes you've seen in porn you don't think you've ever seen one that was also a bath and also you're not exactly ripped. You guess you'll follow his lead.

He kisses down your neck until he gets to the most sensitive spot and nips you. You roll your head back to make it easier for him as he hugs you around the waist. 

‘Could'a said Yoghurt Slinger, thought I'd go classy,’ you tell him. God, you love that you can be an idiot with him. ‘If I come up with a really bad name for my bonersona are you gonna call off shower sex? What am I risking here?’ 

He bites you on the collarbone and you laugh at his attempt at punishment. ou don't think you've ever had so much _fun_ messing around with someone. It's easy, being with him. 

‘Jesus Christ. Yeah, I think that’s a very real possibility. I might just call off shower sex because of you saying bonersona. I don’t think I’ll be able to look at you and think about sex ever again because I’ll constantly be reminded of this conversation.’

You stroke your hand up his back until you can cup it around the nape of his neck and hold him firmly for a second before pulling him back so you can kiss him again. 

‘You liar,’ you tell him. ‘Wonder how far I could push you and still get you moaning for me. Super disappointing that I haven't been able to trigger some proper post-fuck remorse in you so far.’

Kind of surprising, really. Not even a single walk of shame. If he'd snuck out at some point you probably would have gotten way up in your head about it, you _much_ prefer this kind of casual sidle into a relationship where you're teasing at the boundaries but despite the _risk_ that's been underlying it, it's been pretty cute. God, he's ruined you.

‘You want me to regret it? Keep it up with the bonersona talk and I just might.’

He slides his hand slowly down the length of your body and cups your ass as he kisses you again, deeper this time. You stand on your toes briefly so you can match his height and press your tongue deep into his mouth. It's frustrating not being able to push yourself as close as you can when you've got a mattress to lean into, but the sensation of his body slick with water against you is making up for it.

You want to tease him, want to get under his skin and see if you can get him to kick you out of the shower for being an asshole, but you also want to fuck him. You nudge one of your legs in between his so you can press against each other more. You can feel his cock against you and it's swinging you back in the direction of _don't piss off the dude who lets you put your dick in him_. 

Then again, you're an idiot.

‘Please, I might as well not bother,’ you say. ‘No matter what I say, you'll still get on your knees for me.’ You grin at him cockily. You have no idea if it's true or not, but you're damn well gonna pretend it is.

He pecks you abruptly on the lips and turns away to get the soap, stepping out from the awesome grindy space you had going on. 

‘No sex going on here, then,’ he says, surprisingly convincingly casual. ‘Just two dudes taking a purely platonic shower. Do you think you can turn around so I can wash your back?’

Oh, this is definitely a bluff. You've never seen such an obvious bluff before. You're actually surprised by the fact that he thinks he's going to get away with it, and it makes your breath leave your lungs in a little huff.

‘Yeah, because Plato's idea of keeping shit intellectual is totally compatible with homo-erotic showers.’ You shift slightly closer so that when he turns back to you he has to work at looking unaffected. ‘Actually, now that I think of it, it was Ancient Greece, it probably is.’

He might be even hotter when he's pretending he's not interested, which probably says something about you. You bite teasingly at his neck and very pointedly don't move to turn around.

He starts to wash your chest instead.

‘Don’t bitch at me for not being thorough because you’re busy being a jackass. I told you I’d call off shower sex. It’s not coming back. You blew it, bro.’

His hands are on you and he's close but he's actually sticking with his insane calling off the shower sex thing. Doesn't he know that all you have to offer here is sex and snark? He's got you caught between giving up one of your only two cards, that's insane.

‘You're not serious,’ you tell him. ‘You've got “please, dear God, someone use a firm hand on me” practically written on your forehead in permanent marker. Don't pretend like I couldn't get you to call me “daddy” with minimal effort.’

You grab his hand as it moves over your chest and hold it still. He raises his eyebrows at you. Your whole strategy here rests on Dirk either not realising he's stronger than you and a _fucking vampire_ on top of that or just being a complete bottom. You like your odds. He's an idiot for a smart guy.

‘I am being completely serious. Shower sex is done for, Hal. Consider this a lesson in learning that your actions have consequences.’

He pulls his hand free, keeping eye contact with you the whole time. You may have miscalculated. He goes back to washing you as if you didn’t do anything.

He's not going to make you beg, surely. This isn't going to be one of those things where you've been able to top every time just because he lets you, is it? That's no kind of victory at all, you're a bit shocked. And more than a bit turned on. You may have a problem.

‘Completely off the table? Even if I ask nicely?’ you ask, trying to sound more contrite than disbelieving. You're not sure you can pull off contrite. You probably sound sarcastic. 

Maybe it's better for your ego that way, you could definitely pull an, ‘ooh, Mr Strider, please take me in this shower before I swoon,’ easier than what you worry he's going to want. You're really more about making other people beg than doing it yourself.

You put your hands lightly on his hips, not sure if he's going to pull away again. You probably couldn't have held him down without him wanting you to even before the vampire thing.

‘Maybe not, but you’ll have to do it a few times. Even then I can’t say that I’m certain. You ruined the mood, man. I was so ready to jump your dick, but your cocky bonersona talk was too much.’

He kisses you on the jaw again, then the shell of your ear. You tilt your head back to give let him kiss wherever he wants, but he's frustratingly brief. Your only consolation is that he _is_ kissing you and he isn't pushing your hands away either. The door's not all the way closed. You have a sneaky suspicion that it's actually quite wide open.

‘I'm not exactly _good_ at asking nicely,’ you say, slowly as if that'll make you sound less uncertain. ‘I could bargain with you instead. I have a lot to offer, you know. My dick, for instance.’

You're very bad at this. You should be focusing on him, maybe if you compliment him or something you won't have to literally get down on your knees. Or maybe you could just get down on your knees and suck him off instead. You kiss him gently on his throat and then his collarbone. 

‘Or my tongue,’ you say as you start to kiss down his chest. He cups your chin in his palm and you still, letting him hold you in place instead of straightening. 

‘I’m not up for bargaining. This can be a learning experience. I believe you could use some practice in asking nicely.’ He pauses and strokes your jaw with his thumb. ‘I was considering offering my tongue for you, you know. If you could ask nicely.’

Having to look up so much with his hand on you in an almost possessive way is one thing. Having him turn the tables on your bargain is another. You groan lowly and straighten back up. He's not letting you have your way at all.

‘Please,’ you say reluctantly. You know that much is required. More than that though you're flying blind. ‘Dirk, please. I'll ... I'll be good.’

You kiss his neck again, slow, needy kisses that hopefully sell your case better than your words. You wrap your arms around his waist as you kiss him, hoping he finds the contact half as good as you do. You're harder than you should be this early in the game, but you're going to pretend valiantly that's normal and has nothing to do with you drawing the submissive card for the first time in a long time.

‘You’re so fucking good, holy shit,’ he says, before pulling you off his neck and kissing you. His hand on your cheek is so gentle and he’s got you around the waist again. 

You moan quietly into his mouth as he kisses you. You don't think you fucked up and you're so relieved you could melt right down the drain. He strokes his thumb over your cheekbone lovingly. You feel insanely cared for in his arms.

You press your body closer to his and slowly grind your cock against his as you deepen the kiss. You drag your hands slowly up and down his back, feeling the lines of his muscles under your fingertips. 

You're going to take the upper hand again... next time. You're okay with waiting til next time. Right now you think you'd do just about anything he asked. Which is so different to how you usually feel. Usually if Dirk wants something from you that's a pretty good guarantee you're going to rub not giving it to him in his face.

He kisses along your jaw and down your neck, fingers teasing at your nipple. Your breath hitches and he pinches you hard, making you whimper hopelessly. 

‘You’re fucking amazing,’ he murmurs against your skin.

Him kissing down your neck feels fucking amazing, but leaves your mouth much too free and you can just _tell_ he's being smug about the fact that you literally can't keep quiet. Your neck is _sensitive_ and he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

You swear with frustration and decide that being passive doesn't suit you after all. Not when you still think you have a shot at taking control.

‘Work with me,’ you tell him, before grabbing him just under his ass and picking him up. 

He makes a _fucking hot_ noise, not like you’ve surprised him (which you’re pretty sure you did) but like he’s turned on as fuck by this development. You can hold his weight, he's not exactly heavy, and when you press him into the tiles it's actually pretty easy to sustain, if maybe a bit cold for him.

‘Put me down, asshole,’ he says.

You stroke carefully down his thigh and are thrilled to see that you can do that without dropping him. You stroke back up and squeeze his ass, teasing your fingers closer to his groin. You don't think it would take much to slip your cock in him and it's hard to focus on anything that isn't how close you are to fucking him. 

You drag your eyes up from his body and look at his face instead. You kiss him under the jaw as if he isn't glaring at you. You love him like this so much. It does cause some logistical problems, though.

‘We need a safeword,’ you say, conversationally. ‘You know, seeing as I get off on doing basically the opposite of what you tell me to.’ You grind against him slightly and inch your fingers a bit closer to his sex. ‘Tell me I'm a god and I'll back right off.’

You smirk at him, and really fucking hope that he is just fronting again because you want to be in him so bad right now.

‘ _Fuck_ you,’ he says, looking like he honestly wants to punch you. _Nngh_ , he’s hot when he’s pissed. 

‘I need that in a full sentence, by the way,’ you say, finally touching your fingers to his hole and stroking gently through his pre. He squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lip, a tiny whimper escaping anyway. You won’t make a big deal of it this time, you’re just nice like that. 

‘Obviously you'll be calling out to God. I need you to say, “You're a god, Hal.” Try not to say it accidentally, even though I know you already think that of me.

‘Again, fuck you,’ he says, bitter as you’ve ever heard him. It’s impressive, considering how obviously ready for you he is. ‘I’m never fucking saying that. Do you like wasting your time by trying to get me to spout the dumbest shit you can think of?’

He looks like he wants to fight you, like if you'd picked him up in the hallway or somewhere where everything wasn't wet and slippery, he would have shoved you off and tried to get on top. The fact that you have him spread and wet for you when he's so obviously pissed at you as well is hot as fuck.

You bite him possessively on the neck as you give him two fingers. You think you can hold this position, but there's no reason to test your strength too far by dragging it out. He makes a _gorgeous_ noise, something that starts as a groan but hitches into a whine before he covers his mouth with his arm.

He's so fucking hot, you love the way he thinks he's hiding from you. You know he wants more, wants you just as much as you want him, and you know that while you're competing like this he isn't going to admit it, which makes every noise you can get out of him even more satisfying. 

You pump your fingers in and out of him and bite him harder, groaning around your mouthful of neck as the way you shift drags your dick against him. You push him firmer into the wall and grind more deliberately.

‘Mmm,’ you tell him, humming into his neck. You lick the mark you've given him and nip him right on the red edge. ‘Gonna make you call me all kinds of nice names. King, maybe. Stallion. Lovebunny.’ You'd come up with more and more ridiculous options if your brain wasn't getting increasingly stupid with lust.

He hits you over the back of your head before ruining it by gripping onto your hair passionately. 

‘Shut the fuck up,’ he says breathlessly. ‘I’m never calling you any of those and you know it.’

You laugh against his skin. You probably shouldn't confuse the issue with more words, but you flatter yourself that you know Dirk well enough from years of stopping just shy of getting shit thrown at you. You love winding him up and this is the best way you can think of doing it.

His arm isn’t covering up his moans at all, and even if he could keep himself quiet his hips are jerking up to try and drive your fingers deeper, faster.

‘Of course not, because then I'd stop,’ you say. ‘And you want me way too bad for that. Lucky I'm a generous bastard.’

‘I’m not fucking saying it because it’s stupid bullshit. You’re a goddamn asshole,’ he says through clenched teeth. ‘You won’t stop anyway; you’re too far gone for that.’

You pull your fingers out of him and brace yourself as well as you can as you angle your dick into him. You would love to be able to keep your cool, just because he's struggling so much with it and you want to show him up, but he feels too good and you have to press your forehead into his shoulder and groan as you sink into him. Your knee wobbles slightly but you correct it and resteady your grip on his ass so you're balanced and he's secure.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ you gasp. You lean into him, taking a second to adjust to how fucking amazing he feels. He started gripping your shoulder at some point and he’s holding onto it and your hair so tight it hurts, but your stupid brain is interpreting that as a really good thing too. 

He looks like he _hates_ you, and it's so satisfying to see him struggle to maintain his outrage as you get the hang of thrusting into him without running the risk of dropping him. It's like gravity is working with you, like he's falling onto you and letting you get so deep and so hard. It feels incredible.

‘Yeah, you know it,’ you groan, way too late on responding to his bullshit. ‘Jesus _fuck_ , might never put you down. Steal you and just use you when I want, all the time, fucking _hell_ , Dirk, you feel so good.’

He moans loudly, his expression beautiful in his pleasure, clearly beyond keeping up his act now that you’ve started moving. He practically lets his face fall into your neck and starts sucking yet another hickey onto your skin. You’re going to look … well, like you’ve fucked a vampire.

‘Seems like a lot of responsibility,’ he says breathlessly.

‘Worth it,’ you tell him. ‘Keep you just for me. Fuck you so hard and so well you can't think to run away from me.’

You grab him and hoist him a bit higher on the wall so you can fuck him better. He's taking you so beautifully, gripping you hard with his hands and legs and mouth and ass. He moans with every thrust you give him like he's feeling a fraction of the good he's making you feel.

You wrap your arms all the way around his hips and pull him towards you. His shoulders are still against the wall and you fuck him harder. You lean forward until his nipple is between your lips and suck harshly.

His head makes a low thunk noise as he lets it fall back against the wall and he whimpers as he reaches down to stroke himself. 

You give him a bit of teeth on his nipple before you realise you need your mouth to breathe now. The arousal is making your knees weak and you're on the verge of gasping. You're going to finish before you drop Dirk, but it might be a near thing. 

It's so hot to see him losing any pretense at being pissed at you. He's all about his pleasure now, and you did that to him, made it so he couldn't care about anything but coming, and he looks close to it. You don't think you'll ever get over how hot his dick looks in his hand, you could watch him get off without anything in it for you and you'd still thank him.

‘Fuck, Dirk,’ you gasp. ‘Feel so good, _fuck_.’

You can't believe you get to do this, get to _keep_ doing this. Dirk's really yours, or close enough, and if you want to have shower sex every day ... you'll probably have to get stronger, but you _could_ do it.

He lets go of your hair so he can stroke around to your cheek and guide your face up. You get what he’s after and adjust slightly so you can kiss him. His lips and tongue against yours feel fucking amazing, even though you're kissing him back in the clumsiest and messiest way you think you ever have, too focused on thrusting and breathing and just wanting to feel. Somehow it makes it better, makes it dirtier and more desperate. 

‘Hal,’ he moans, ‘Hal, I’m close, _fuck_.’

It's a race, you know you won't be able to keep holding him or fucking him after you come, so you _have_ to get him off first, and it's getting impossible to hold your own pleasure back. You risk moving a hand from around him so you can reach down, palm cupping his ass and finger going for his hole. 

You choke out a moan as he tightens around you even more with his orgasm and finally let yourself come as well. Your legs lock as you do, holding him against the wall as your dick pulses inside him. You breathe deep, shuddery breaths as you slowly put him down, getting his feet under him again but still holding him up. Or maybe he's holding you up. You're tempted to just sit down in the bath, you are _wrecked_.

He presses his forehead into your shoulder, breathing heavily. 

‘You’re a dickhead,’ he tells you. 

You press your cheek against his so you can have all that closeness that your body is demanding from you and still breathe. You don't think you've put that much effort into doing _anything_ in years. You can feel a stitch in your side, but you can't make yourself care. You feel amazing.

‘Yeah,’ you agree. ‘I'm fun, though. I'll let you top next time, promise. Unless I'm being a dick.’ Your breathing is starting to get under control, and you think you can move your legs again. You pull Dirk under the water with you because he doesn't look like he can move yet. ‘Or if you're being irresistible. I'm only so strong, and you're making a habit of seducing me.’

You kiss his neck and run your hands down his back. He seems just as wiped as you, maybe even more so. You wonder if the vampire venom's making you stronger, because you're not sure you should be able to do what you just did.

‘Mhm,’ he agrees, as sarcastic as he can be with something that isn’t even a word and with his whole being exuding afterglow. ‘Considering that you are always being a dick, I don’t think I can trust that promise. And I don’t seem to have to do anything to “seduce” you. I’m thinking the issue is something on your end, not mine.’

You cuddle him close as he strokes your hair. It might be weird that you can go from taunting him and fucking him as he fights you on it, to holding each other like this, exchanging soft kisses and lazy banter. You like it, though. You like it so much that it's hard to hold up your end of the banter because you just want to tell him how much you like it, how much you like him.

‘That's true,’ you agree. ‘You're seducing me right now. And anytime I see you. I'm going to have to hide you away or wear blinkers or something if I ever want to make it more than twenty minutes without attacking you.’

You like the feeling of his skin warming back up from where you had it pressed against the cold tile. You love his hands on your body, like he can't get enough of the feel of you either. The novelty of his affection doesn't appear to be going anywhere.

‘Fuck. Seems like you’ve got the complete opposite of erectile dysfunction.’ He presses a kiss to your jaw and then just stays there for a bit as you huff a laugh. ‘I would be worried if I wasn’t totally fine with it. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much sex in such a short period of time, and I made a habit of whoring myself out.’

‘God, same,’ you groan. ‘This is fucking relentless, I've never been like this. You've cursed my dick with erectile function. Extra function. Mega function. It's like a powerup in a video game except instead of invulnerability I've just regressed from critical thought in favour of your ass.’

His hands feel so nice on you. He has this way of massaging you that unsteadies your legs and relaxes you down to your goddamn soul, and it's right when you're already fucking relaxed. You might be in legitimate danger of staying in this shower forever. 

Actually, yeah, your fingers are hella wrinkled and you've been in here way too long. You have no fucking memory of how much you've washed each other, but you're going to assume the hot water has been good enough. You reach behind him and turn the tap off.

He brushes your hair out of your face before draping his arm around your shoulders.

He's still kinda wobbly. You're not sure it's all your mad skills, though obviously those shouldn't be in doubt. Weren't you just thinking that maybe you should have let him rest rather than jumping his mysteriously vampire-sick ass? You thought you were joking earlier about being unable to resist him, but maybe there is a supernatural element. You're usually more logical than this.

Are you allowed to send your kinda-boyfriend-person to bed for a nap? Is that controlling? Do you give a shit if you're a controlling boyfriend-type-dude? Like, he knows what you're like. You should be immune to this kind of new relationship uncertainty.

‘So we essentially have some on brand bimbofication happening here.’ he says. ‘We have regressed into a shitty, poorly written fanfic, Hal. We’re doomed to spend the rest of our days mindlessly fucking like rabbits. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think the venom would give us this type of outcome.’

‘And we're not even lesbian lawyers,’ you sigh. ‘Oh well, nothing to do but accept our fate. I'm pretty sure you should be preying on me, Drac.’

He grimaces and says, ‘Do me a favor and never call me that again, okay?’

You put a towel on his head and rub it into his hair a bit before wrapping one around your shoulders as well. Fuck he's cute with his hair messed up. You kiss him on the lips before he can fix it.

He melts into your lips and pulls your towel onto your head in return. He’s nice and slow, almost like he’s showing you how a _gentleman_ dries someone’s hair. 

You find yourself smiling. You were kind of teasing him when you did it, but this is so nice. He's gentle with you and it keeps surprising you. You have the feeling solo showers are going to be hard to go back to after this. Next you'll be needing him to help dress you.

‘We should totally go back to bed,’ he says, tucking your towel back around your shoulders. 

‘And you say I'm the one who can't get enough of you! Yes, you should. _I_ , however, have work to do.’ Though, a Dirk that's willing to actually rest and recover should not be rejected. ‘What if I took my laptop to bed, could you sleep with the sound of my typing? I'll be your human hot water bottle.’

You can focus, right? With him sleeping next to you? You definitely should have the sex out of your system by now, surely. Too bad you didn't fall for one of those rich vampires who could just pay you to be a source of blood and dick. Jesus, what is _wrong_ with you, you have bigger aspirations than that.

‘Hey, all I did was suggest that we should go back to bed. I didn’t say anything about not getting enough of you. I would just prefer you to be there with me. You’re like a heated blanket and I’m permanently experiencing hypothermia. You can’t just let a guy get frostbite.’

You like him close like this, but you're not really sure what to do with him ... you wrap your arms around him a couple of seconds after you think would probably be natural, trying to figure out if you should be drying him further or not. Hugging is good, though.

‘Alright, fine,’ he says. ‘Are you actually going to do work or are you going to fuck off halfway through your responsibilities and play Minecraft?’

‘Usually the Minecraft one,’ you say, patting him vaguely with his towel in an effort to dry him. ‘But I'm pretty sure Sollux only hasn't come over to kick my ass for not pulling my weight because he can't do that and stay in his bedroom at the same time.’

‘You’re both hermits. I still can’t believe you went to the store last night. That was a bold move for you.’

You flip him off. He doesn’t remotely care.

Neither of you are dripping, so you pull Dirk with you out of the bathroom and to your bedroom. You need clothes, even if he doesn't really. Though it might be safer given your apparent lack of control if he did wear something. You pull clothes on quickly and suddenly get hit by the fact that you haven't eaten yet.

Food first, then work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as this is a shower scene basically from the start, it's harder to find where it starts being a sex scene? Anyway, to skip to the end, ctrl f for "He presses his forehead into your shoulder, breathing heavily."  
> The dubcon element comes from Dirk asking Hal to stop and Hal (after giving him a safeword) keeping going because the rivalry thing is honestly hot as hell. Dirk doesn't safeword out and is super okay with all this (you'll see how very much so when the Dirk POV version catches up) but if that makes you uncomfy then skip to the end. :)  
> (Also don't take this as the sensible or responsible way to distribute safewords or discuss consent. You should definitely have important conversations with your clothes _on_ and probably source your info from a place that isn't fanfic/porn!)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal and Dirk learn how to compromise over breakfast.

Dirk squeezes your hip and takes your towel, placing it over his own. 

‘I’m gonna go grab some clothes,’ he says. He pecks you on the lips and walks away.

You make an "aw" noise at his decision to get clothes, even though you're on your way to dressed yourself, but you can't bring yourself to feel any kind of disappointment when he kisses you so casually, just because you're close, because he's not going to see you for maybe a couple of minutes, tops. 

‘I’ll be in the kitchen,’ you tell him, as if he wouldn't be able to work that out for himself. 

You can't help but watch him walk away before you look back at the sock in your hand. You don't think you're capable of wanting him right now (you don't want to think too hard about it in case you are), but damn if his ass isn't worthy of appreciation regardless of your intentions towards it.

Once you're staring at the pantry, you're tempted to go full garlic just to kick off vampire mythbusters, but you don't think that's a good idea so soon after he was sick and despite the fact that it's night time, you did just wake up not that long ago. You can't think of any garlicky breakfast foods.

Dirk joins you in the kitchen, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder. You lean back into his chest, not taking your eyes off your options.

‘Staring at food isn’t the same as eating it, you know,’ he says.

You can't tell him that you were torn between the best food for you or the quickest option to get you back to him faster. You're not admitting you literally can't go five minutes without him. 

And, as stupid as basing your food choices on that would be, he's here now. You take the bread and hold his arm to your waist so he doesn't try to move away like a sensible person as you move to the fridge. He's coming with you, perma-cuddles style. He stumbles, just a bit. You don’t let go of him and he doesn’t try and move away either.

‘I was considering,’ you say. 

‘Mhm, sure,’ he says, voice teasing.

You throw the bread to the bench so you can take eggs and bacon from the fridge. 

‘I made a meal plan, but I think I need to set alarms until I get used to the nocturnal thing.’

‘You know you don’t need to switch to being nocturnal because of me, right? You’re still human. You may be a reclusive bastard, but you might regret ditching the diurnal lifestyle. And I don’t want to be the reason you rearrange your sleeping schedule.’

Hmmm. You're not going to cook with a Dirk backpack.

‘Let me go,’ you say, as if he's being the unreasonable one. 

‘You’re _holding_ me here, dipshit,’ he mumbles.

You turn and kiss him to tide you over for being three goddamn feet away from him and fail utterly at the moving away from him thing. He's just a really good kisser.

You push him away gently and smile at him so he knows you're playing. It's the only way you're going to be able to function. You take a pan out and start to get yourself organised. Bacon and eggs isn't challenging cooking by any stretch of the imagination, but you have an audience and you're not okay with fucking up in front of Dirk.

‘I'm still going to have to get some sun, vitamin D and all that. I might grab some supplements at some point, which I probably should be on anyway. I'm _not_ a hermit, but ... like I don't see a lot of sun as it is.’

You're not quite sure how to address that you're giving up daytime for him. It's not a big sacrifice for you, but it's kind of heavy for a day old not-quite relationship. And romantic. Like that song: _I know I'm young but if I had to choose her or the sun, I'd be one nocturnal son of a gun._

‘You’re a total hermit. I’ve lived with you long enough to figure that out, trust me.’ 

He leans against the counter, all long limbs tempting you back closer to him again, but you focus on your breakfast instead of your constant desire to be kissing him. 

‘Don’t you think that becoming nocturnal because your roommate went and got bitten sounds fucking stupid? Because I think it sounds fucking stupid. Selflessly fucking stupid. This is like if I decided to be diurnal again, except less fatal. I’m gonna go diurnal, Hal. You’re just going to have to accept it.’

You get the bacon going and turn back to Dirk to frown at him. Those are two completely different things, it's more like if you were switching to a night shift, people do that. He literally can't go diurnal. Unless you sun-proofed the whole house, which might be a good idea anyway. He shouldn't be cooped up in a room even if he's probably going to sleep through it.

‘Okay, come on. People sleep in the day sometimes, I've come pretty close to nocturnalness in the past already, it won't _hurt_ me.’ 

‘Yeah, _sometimes_. The only people that stick to nights are people who have to for shitty jobs. And fucking weirdos. I know you’re weird—you don’t have to remind me—but is this really necessary? It might not hurt you _physically_ , but that doesn’t make it healthy.’

You hold up your hands to show you're not picking a fight about it, he doesn't need to get clever. ‘I take your point. I don't need to adjust my schedule by quite that much.’

You poke at the bacon and wonder how much he's going to make you compromise on this. You don't want to be apart for the length of time it takes you to cook, is he really going to make you sleep while he's awake and vice versa? You guess you might get more done. But you don't _want_ to.

‘Just because I can’t go out in the sunlight anymore doesn’t mean you should give it up,’ he says softly.

‘I'd rather—’ you start, before catching yourself. Yes, you would rather give up sun for him than for something as replaceable as a job, but you don't need to _say_ it. You take a breath. This is so weirdly different from your usual fights with Dirk. It doesn't even feel like a fight.

‘Okay, so I probably don't go to sleep until like 1am most nights anyway. We haven't exactly instituted a bedtime or whatever for you but sunrise is just after 7am right now, right? And I don't need 10 hours sleep or however long it is the sun's up.’

You have an excuse not to watch him as you crack your eggs into the pan, but when you glance back at him in between various breakfasting activities, he's not looking like that's enough of a compromise, so you readjust. ‘So if I was to stay up til 5? 4? I'd still get afternoons.’

‘Fine,’ he sighs. ‘I still think that it’s a stupid idea. And if you seem like you can’t handle it, I would really rather that you stick to the diurnal life.’

Holy shit, that's almost a win. You don't think he'll keep track of it as closely as you anyway, you can totally sneak some extra time with him. Wow. You're clingy when you're in love. 

‘I'm sure you'll let me know if I start to lose my shit.’ 

‘Oh, you can count on it,’ he says.

You lean in and kiss him briefly, worth turning your back on the stove for a few seconds to reward both of you for having possibly your first ever mature discussion. You kiss him again because you can't help yourself and then turn back to your breakfast.

You flip your eggs because you don't trust yourself to cook but not burn them otherwise. You get a plate out and tap poke at your bacon impatiently. You're really hungry. You possibly need to eat, _then_ have sex in the future. You’re not the guy who can multitask on those activities.

‘What do you think would happen if I drank a glass of orange juice?’ he asks as you plate up. 

You put a probably unwise amount of ketchup on your breakfast. You'd hold back if it were anyone other than Dirk watching you. Apart from the fact that he can no longer judge anyone on their eating habits, you've lived together long enough to see some weird choices and not all of them were yours.

‘I dunno. Spew like in one of those dumb comedies?’

‘Sounds hot,’ he says sarcastically.

Now he's asked the question, you're super curious yourself. Not that you want to see him get sick again, but surely it's an exaggeration. You put your fork down and pour yourself an orange juice. 

‘Maybe start with a sip,’ you say. ‘Or …’

You drink again, but this time hold it in your mouth, trying to let the flavour sit on your tongue. You swallow as you move closer, pulling him towards you by the hip when you can reach him. Your mouth still tastes strongly of orange to you, and this is a _good_ kind of experiment. You kiss him, dragging your tongue against his deliberately.

‘Not exactly what I had in mind, but I’m not detecting any disastrous consequences,’ he says.

You kiss him again, standing on your toes so you can match his height, before you remember that you've made yourself a hot breakfast that you're not willing to let go cold. If you were any less hungry, you might have let yourself get carried away. Okay, one last kiss, then you're actually leaving. 

You pull away and take a deliberate step back from him. You're very clearly not to be trusted, it's almost comical.

‘Did it taste different or anything?’ you ask, as if that was all very scientific.

‘I’m not sure that I can accurately judge the taste of your orange juice residue, but I don’t think so. I’ll have to test out a full glass at some point.’

You return to your bacon and have to force yourself not to rush. Yes, you can kiss him more when you've eaten. No, you don't want to give yourself a stomach ache racing through it. A bit of bacon breaks off from the main rasher and you offer it to Dirk, seeing as he's in an experimenting kind of mood.

‘You know I’m not a big fan of bacon,’ he says, but he takes it anyway.

You lick your fingers free of bacon grease and keep eating as you watch him. You _do_ know he doesn't like bacon, you're pretty sure you had a comically large fight over it. Sometimes a guy's gotta take out all his frustration with the world on his roommate over basically nothing.

‘Which is easier to justify now, but still insane,’ you tell him. 

‘It’s not insane. I just never liked it that much.’

‘Fuck, I can't remember the rest of my argument for that one, it was really good, too. Did I tell you it makes you smarter because pigs are smart, and obviously you need all the help you can get? I think it was that ridiculous, but I can't remember if it was exactly that.’

That fight very nearly came to physical blows. Not as bad as the time that you thought that Livin' La Vida Loca was originally performed by Antonio Banderas and refused to believe him that it was Ricky Martin. You've had some really stupid fights, wow. Your ridiculous love for him is making you look back on it all fond.

‘Something like that,’ he says, nodding. ‘ And I think I remember telling you that it was charred shit and that you could stick it up your ass if you loved it so much. I believe bacon tastes just as gross as I remember. Or at least that tiny ass piece did.’

He stares at your plate for a bit, like he’s thinking. 

‘I should eat garlic.’

‘Raw?’ you ask. ‘'Cause I don't know if I'd react all that well to that either.’

‘Oh, absolutely. I think the best way to test this out would be to bite straight into the bulb.’ 

You roll your eyes at his sarcasm. You finish up your breakfast and drag your finger through a bit of yolk and sauce left over. You feel better for having eaten. You're going to have to keep more aware of that.

You barely catch Dirk looking at you with _incredible_ judgement. He corrects it, slightly, but he still looks grossed out by your eating habits. Ha.

‘Yolk is the nastiest shit,’ he says. ‘How can you eat that?’

You smirk at him and bend down to lick your plate directly. You'd lick the whole thing clean if you thought it would be worth the joke, but one lick's probably enough. You straighten back up and wipe the tip of your nose where you feel like you got something on it.

‘You eat my blood and I act like this,’ you say. ‘Is that better or worse than liking someone who acts like this?’ 

You grin at him in what you have to assume is either a really charming or really obnoxious way. They're the same thing where you're concerned.

‘Do you seriously expect me to answer that when you’re slurping up yolk like some kind of feral animal? I’m going to throw my guts up all over the floor and it’s going to be your fault.’

You dump your plate in the sink to deal with later and move closer to him again, still grinning at his dramatics.

‘I can make something garlicky for dinner. Like straight up garlic butter noodles, and if it bothers you I guess I'll have to brush my teeth forever.’

You like garlic, you're firmly on the side of putting in four cloves when a recipe calls for one. It'd almost be a bigger sacrifice than sunlight for you. You probably wouldn't have to give it up entirely, right? Just be careful on the kissing him side of things, maybe. Whatever, you don't even know you have to yet. It could be a myth.

‘Do you really want to cook a legitimate meal just to test whether or not I’ll puke it up?’

‘Of course I'll cook you dinner, I gotta eat anyway. You really need to get your head around working your way up to testing these myths, try holding some garlic first. And I probably could stand to rack up a couple of romance points to balance out the rest of what I do.’

‘You’ll get plenty of romance points if I react horribly to the garlic. Vomiting and whatever else would follow are both activities that really set the romantic mood for me.’

‘And you were judging me for my tameass crying kink,’ you tease. You find his hipbone under his shirt and trace it with your thumb. 

‘Because making people cry during sex is clearly the tamest kink out there,’ he says sarcastically. He strokes up your side like he wants you to stay close. 

‘C'mon, bed. You can use me for my hot bod and I can get some fucking work done.’ 

‘Mm, whatever,’ he snarks. ‘We’ll see what kind of work you get done.’

You pull him slightly to steer him in the right direction and then make an effort to keep your hands to yourself. Turns out that's a lot harder than you'd like to admit, so you reach for his hand without making a deal of it. Probably the most innocent way you can touch him, anyway.

You pull him to your room and release him when you get inside. You focus on getting your laptop and charger organised, ignoring your other add-ons because you won't have room for them in bed. Hopefully he can sleep over the sound of your mechanical keyboard.

‘Hal, man, you gotta hurry,’ Dirk says, voice lazy from the direction of your bed. ‘I think I’m getting to the point where I can’t sleep without a human sized heating pad.’

You smile to yourself as you finally get all your stuff together. You turn back to your bed with your arms full of laptop and find yourself a little stunned by how awesome you have it. Dirk looks cosy as _shit_ in your bed, and he's waiting for you.

‘That was my master plan all along,’ you say, getting into bed like you didn't just stop for no reason in the middle of your room. ‘Get you hooked on my amazing powers of thermoregulation and now I get guaranteed Dirk cuddles.’

You arrange your pillows behind you so you can be somewhat upright and press your leg close to him as you open your laptop lid. He slides his arm over your stomach and rests his head against your shoulder immediately. You love this cuddly fucker.

‘Fuck, I’ve been duped,’ he mumbles into your arm. ‘How could you deceive me like this?’

You’d reply, but you were logging into your laptop as he was talking and _fuck_ that's a lot of notifications. The most recent ones say:

TA: the only thiing that2 keepiing your computer2 2afe riight now ii2 the fact that ii know youd throw a 2hiitfiit iif ii hacked you and ii dont want two deal wiith your bull2hiit retaliiatiion.   
TA: 2o heres 2omethiing you havent got. prepare for my biitche2 two come check on your uncommuniicatiive a22 and iif youre ju2t lyiing iin bed watchiing legally blonde on repeat ii 2wear to jegu2 an army of ladiie2 wiill kiick the 2hiit out of you from now to eterniity.  
TA: ok not army but let2 be real you cant take even one of my biitche2. iim 2endiing jade.

With almost cinematic timing, about three seconds after you finish reading the message, you hear a knock at the door. Fuck.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter one, because there's a higher than usual density of plot. I don't know what it is about Sollux that makes me want to shove him in a locker, but what can you do?

You close your laptop and scoot out of bed, heart racing. This is fine, right? You cleaned up the blood well enough and Dirk's not going to attack her. You get in front of the mirror as Jade knocks on the door again and groan at the sight of your neck. 

At least most of your marks are regular-ass hickeys, but there's a couple of distinctive vampire bites there and while you can probably convince Jade you wanted to give it a go, Sollux would know better. You'd have talked to him about it, pretended to brag while you pumped him for information. 

Dirk sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes. 

‘I’m going to kick the ass of whoever the hell that is. I literally just got you to lie down.’

You grab a scarf from your closet, and wrap it around your neck, making sure to do a bad enough job that one of the bruises at the top of your neck is showing but the vampire bites are hidden. You look like an idiot wearing inside clothes and a scarf, but not like someone harbouring an illegal vampire. 

‘I think Sollux sent someone to check up on me, I'll get rid of her. You can stay in bed.’ 

You kiss him as she knocks again and hurry to the door, trying to remember if you like Jade. You will never understand how Sollux has so many girls hanging around him.

You open the door and Jade finally stops knocking. She smiles at you brightly, looks you up and down and her face changes to one of polite confusion. You tug self-consciously at your scarf.

‘Hey, Jade,’ you say. ‘So, I'm fine, obviously, and Sollux could have just called me or something, I've just been ... busy.’

She looks like she's at least amused rather than going to kick your ass like Sollux said. She doesn't let you turn her away though, she pushes through the door and past you. 

‘Wait, no,’ you try to say, but she grabs the end of your scarf as she goes so you can either go with her or get choked/exposed. You kick the door closed as she pulls you into the lounge room like she's been here a million times. You think she's been here twice, _maybe_.

‘So!’ she says cheerily. ‘You've never been disconnected from your phone for any period of time in your life, Sollux says you text him in your sleep! What gives?’ She flops easily onto your couch, finally letting go of your leash. Scarf.

‘I've been busy,’ you repeat.

She laughs. You tug your scarf back into position again and valiantly pretend you're not blushing.

You saw that Dirk was hovering in your doorway, but in one of those freakishly fast movements he’s behind you with his hand over your arm tight enough that it kind of hurts. Holy _shit_ he’s being vampirey. 

He seems to realise this and takes his hand off your arm and folds his arms over his chest instead. 

‘Hey,’ he says. 

You have to give him credit, his voice almost sounded normal even if everything else he just did sucked. You smile as well as you can and put your arm around him.

‘You remember Dirk,’ you say. ‘He's ... been keeping me busy.’

You lean in to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear as you do, ‘Chill, dude.’

Jade looks between the two of you with great concern. You don't like her suspicion and you're not exactly the greatest at reassuring people or diffusing situations. You tend to start shit, not stop it. 

‘Right …’ she says. ‘You guys live together, right? How long has this ...?’ She gestures between the two of you. 

You tug Dirk into a less looming over her position. You're trying to not be completely stupid about how much you like holding his hand given the circumstances, or about how you find it kind of cute that he nearly trips over his feet.

‘A couple of days,’ you say. ‘Seriously, Jade. Everything's cool here. I got distracted, but I was literally just getting online to check in and work again.’ 

Jade doesn't take your very obvious and clumsy attempt to make her leave seriously. Dirk seems to have decided silence and glaring at the wall is the strategy he’s going with. He’s squeezing the life out of your hand, but you’re not letting it show on your face.

‘Oh! Well, congratulations I guess!’ Jade says. 

You tactfully don't point out that that's a fucking bonkers way to respond to people hooking up. She pulls out her phone and starts texting. 

‘Um,’ you say, not quite sure how to be as rude as you want to be while keeping her on your good side. 

‘Oh, it's fine,’ she says. ‘I'm just texting Sollux. He's building me a new laptop and if I do him favours then I only have to pay for parts, so …’

‘Oh, so you're not—’ You stop yourself _just_ before you ask if she's one of his bitches. Smooth. She looks up and correctly interprets your awkwardness. She grins.

‘Yeah, but it's _Sollux_ , so I practically owe him for that too.’ 

You will never understand what Sollux has to offer that has girls like Jade with her dimples and her runway-geek look falling over him. You don't even _like_ girls and you know Jade's hot. 

‘Okay! He's given me the all clear! Much as you guys clearly want me around crashing your honeymoon period, I think I'm gonna leave you to it!’

She holds her hands up in clear expectation for you to help her off the couch, but Dirk is currently squeezing the life out of your left hand so you pull her up with your right. You really don't know her that well, but she's been touchy feely every time you've met her. You think she's just that kind of girl. She isn't taking her eyes off Dirk for more than a couple seconds, so as much as she's talking cheery, you're really not sure that she means it. You need to find out what she's been saying to Sollux. After you get her out of the apartment.

You'd leave Dirk in the lounge if that wouldn't involve cutting your hand off at the wrist. Instead you put your free hand on the small of her back to usher her along more urgently. Your mom would kill you for the astonishing lack of hospitality you've just shown, but that really isn't the priority right now. 

‘I'm going to message Sollux now,’ you tell her as you open the door and somehow manage not to outright push her outside. ‘He could have called.’

‘He doesn't _do_ phonecalls,’ Jade says, rolling her eyes. ‘Anyway, nice to get a chance to drop by!’ Of the three of you, you think she's pretending everything's fine the most. And she's winning. ‘We should catch up some time!’

‘Sure,’ you say, because that's what people say to that. And then, because you've never been accused of having any kind of social grace, you smile at her awkwardly and close the door. 

Time to deal with the apparently territorial as fuck vampire you thought you were keeping completely under control.

Dirk lets go of your hand, leans against the wall and breathes harshly, carefully. He refuses to look you in the eye.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

You step closer to him and wrap an arm around his waist (the one with the squeezed out hand so you can flex the bloodflow back into it surreptitiously behind his back) and reach up to stroke his cheekbone soothingly. 

‘That could have been worse,’ you say. ‘You didn't attack her. Or ritualistically bone me to assert dominance. She might just think you're a weirdo. Or she might be cool with vampires. I'm gonna message Sollux, find out what we can do to damage control this. It's gonna be okay.’ 

You kiss him gently on the lips and pull him back towards your bedroom as you keep talking.

‘I'm sorry, that was on me. I shouldn't have let her inside. If I'd checked in with Sollux she wouldn't have even come. I was way too casual about letting her inside, so much for me being the cautious tester. Are you okay?’

‘It wasn’t on you. I saw what happened. She pretty much forced her way inside.’ He kisses you on the cheek. Every time he does that you think you fall in love with him a little more. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one having an uncontrollable freakout. I’m okay. Are you?’

‘Yeah,’ you say. Fuck your heart is racing. You guide him onto your bed so you can sit on his lap and feel him safe and solid under you. ‘Okay, now I am.’ You press your forehead to his and hug his hips with your knees.

You grip his shoulders tight. You're going to sort all of this out. You just need to keep him close. You love him so much, no one is taking him away from you. You kiss him, and much as you like his fangs you're glad they're back wherever they go when they're not out. He can't be as freaked out as he was.

‘I'll fix this,’ you say against his lips. ‘Sollux has weird, crazy powers over his bit—his girlfriends. He'll brainwash her or whatever it is that he does to them, we'll be okay, I'm not letting anyone ever take you away from me.’

You don't think you could even get far enough away from him to breathe. It's like all the composure you had has just turned to nothing. You just need to _cling_ to him.

He wraps his arms around you, gripping at your shirt. He pulls you into a kiss. 

‘Even if you don’t, we’ll be okay, alright?’ he says, ‘We’re going to be okay no matter what.’

You take a deep breath. And then another. You're starting to calm down just by virtue of being close to him, even if you can't let him go. You wish you could get under his skin, down to his bones. You can't be as close to him as you want to be without breaking the world, but this is almost good enough.

‘Okay,’ you agree. Maybe he's right. You'll take the reassurance anyway, he's comforting as hell, holding onto you just as tight as you are to him. ‘I've got you.’

‘I’ve got you too,’ he says, kissing you on the nose.

You breathe again and kiss him on the lips, the cheek, the forehead before looking past him to your phone. You really need to sort this out now before you let yourself get carried away staking your claim. You pick your phone up and hold it behind his head so you can keep hugging him as you text Sollux. You read aloud as you do so you aren't excluding Dirk. He strokes your hair as he listens.

TT: Hey, so Jade just stopped by.   
TT: Firstly, what the fuck, dude? It's been like a couple of days, get off my dick.   
TT: Secondly, there may have been a bit of an awkward situation given the absolute zero notice you gave me.   
TT: Without making a big deal of this or asking any follow up questions, can you tell me where on the pro/anti scale of vampire attitude Jade sits?

You unfold your legs from under you and wrap them around his back. You feel like a koala bear and you don't think you give a shit about how absolutely marshmallowy soft you absolutely are right now. You kiss him on the cheek instead of fighting it.

‘How the hell is he appealing to any of the girls that he talks to?’ he asks.

‘I have literally no idea. I thought for a while he must have like a pornstar sized dick, but he doesn't. He's got money, but if that was all it was then Feferi wouldn't be all over him, she has her own. The _winning_ theory at the moment is that he's somehow managed to literally hack reality and turn his sex appeal numbers up without impacting his appearance or likeability at all. I've _tried_ to see the appeal. It's like whoever was designing him knew what kind of person he was gonna be so they just modeled his spine off a crushed can of mountain dew.’

‘So you’re saying he has a particularly disturbing case of scoliosis?’ he asks. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t even something he was born with. Dude spends all his time slouching over his computer like some kind of goblin.’

Sollux replies while you're insulting him, so you read out his messages to Dirk as well.

TA: 2hut up, you heaviing bag of hor2e2hiit, ii cant beliieve ii wa2 worriied about you, youre 2o iin2ufferable.   
TA: what happened, diid D2 have a vamp friiend over? ii know you dont have any.   
TA: friiend2 that i2, not ju2t of the vampiire per2ua2iion eheheh.

‘So either she hasn’t said anything to him yet or he’s fucking with you, though I get the impression that he doesn’t even have a shit to give about the whole vampire topic in the first place,’ Dirk says.

You rest your head on his as you think. He's warming against you, but even if he wasn't you wouldn't want to move. You don't know if you're going to be able to do anything more productive than hold him after your scare.

‘I don't think he'd fuck with me if it was something actually important,’ you say. ‘And I don't think he has a horse in the vampire race at all, but he wouldn't side with any kind of government as a matter of principle. I don't know Jade well enough but if you're cool with it I could tell him and I think he'd help. Or I could say you had an obvious bite and Jade seemed weird, leave it at that and see if things get worse. Your call.’

You don't know how to assure him that Sollux is probably fine to trust, but it's his secret. You don't know if he's told anyone, but your friend who's so paranoid about spyware he uses leet speak in 2019 is a safe bet for keeping his mouth shut.

He thinks about it for a bit, and you let him have the time. 

‘Just go ahead and tell him,’ he says. He stops stroking your hair so he can rub your back instead. ‘I don’t think he would report it; that would require talking to someone outside of his circle and possibly getting out of the house.’

He kisses you on the jaw before shifting back close and comfortable.

‘Thanks,’ you murmur, squeezing him a little with your thighs. 

Theoretically, that should make this easier. You tap your thumb against your phone case as you try to think how to phrase it. You decide direct is best, especially if you're reading it out loud to Dirk.

TT: Actually Dirk is the vampire.   
TT: He got turned under less than awesome circumstances, I helped him through it.   
TT: That's the reason I've been off the grid.   
TA: well fuck.   
TA: ii know liiterally nothiing about vampiire2, but iim pretty 2ure that2 not allowed.   
TT: What are you, a cop?   
TA: poiint taken.   
TA: JD 2aw?   
TT: Yeah, apparently territories are a thing. I thought I was being smart covering the bite marks with a scarf.   
TA: oh damn he2 been biitiing you? what2 that liike?   
TT: Fucking awesome, but focus.   
TT: Is Jade likely to report this?   
TA: ii dont know. ii keep our less than legiit stuff hiidden from all the giirl2, ju2t iin ca2e. 2he made a comment once about my riig not beiing up two code. maybe.   
TT: What do we do?   
TA: ii gue22 we hope iim 2o good at fuckiing her that 2he forget2?

‘Hey, what’s wrong with him?’ Dirk says. You press your lips together so you don’t laugh. ‘And _seriously_ , why does anyone want to jump his dick? He’s got the personality of an incel neckbeard that works at GameStop.’

TT: ...   
TA: nah, iill talk two her.   
TA: and 2he ha2 no proof, riight? maybe you 2hould practiice clo2iing the door iin cop2 face2.   
TA: iill do 2ome re2earch. you focu2 on gettiing D2 up two pa22iing.   
TT: What about work?   
TA: 2o a couple of iidiiot2 wont have jaiilbroken iiphone2. iidk, iill put a notiice up 2ayiing were workiing through a backlog.   
TT: Thanks.   
TA: gro22, dont thank me. je2u2, how am ii even 2uppo2ed two know thii2 ii2 you?   
TT: Because literally no one else would bother with your basic as fuck leet, you crumpled Mountain Dew can of a bastard.   
TA: eheheh later HL.

You toss your phone onto your bedside table and hug Dirk to you. You think you feel better. Mostly you want to forget that anyone who isn't the two of you has ever been anywhere near your apartment.

He starts kissing you the second your lips are in reach. He holds you close as he leans backwards, pulling you down with him onto the bed. 

‘You guys suck at concealing your emotional shit with animosity,’ Dirk says. You smile because he gets it. ‘We’re going to be okay,’ he assures you.

It feels even better to lie on top of him than just to sit on him. You let yourself be heavy so you're as pressed against him as you can be and sneak a hand under his shirt to touch your palm to his skin. You'd like to be a lot more naked than you are, but you're not willing to let him go at all to get that.

‘Don't be jealous baby, you're my first and foremost bastard.’ You lift yourself up enough to kiss him. ‘We're definitely going to be okay. You're going to have to deal with my bullshit for so long.’

‘Oh, I’m aware,’ he says, smiling. ‘I don’t think I’d have it any other way.’

You kiss him like it's the only way to properly convince you that he's really there, that he's right and everything's fine. You know that there's other stuff you should be doing—making sure no one else you know is at risk of dropping by, for one, finding out what registration and all that other bullshit actually involves for another—but it feels more important to kiss him.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk and Hal manage to calm down from their stressful visit. ;)

You were feeling a strange mix of the most anxious you think you’ve ever been and the most desperate to keep that anxiety down, but it’s impossible to feel bad when you’re so close to Dirk. He cups your neck with one hand and slips the other under your shirt to trace up and down your spine and you hum into his mouth and nibble playfully at his lower lip.

He feels so nice against you. You think you've managed to stop freaking out. You think _he's_ stopped freaking out. That feels more important.

God, you love him so much. You grab at the waistband of his pants as if you can pull him closer. You want him closer. You grind against him slowly. You're almost skin to skin with him and there's nothing better than that.

‘You want to fuck me?’ you ask. ‘Tell me you have a scary array of dicks with which to absolutely ruin me. Or I'll do you, I just want to be close, you know?’

He hesitates, looking at you skeptically like he thinks you’re not being genuine. Given your track history, you can’t say you blame him. 

‘... Possibly. Are you actually going to let me?’ he asks. ‘I can throw you off a lot more easily now, by the way. The shower gave you an unfair advantage.’

You kiss at his neck and jaw gently. His skin is scratchy under your lips and tongue and he smells so good. You suck a bruise into his neck and give him just a hint of your teeth. He's so nice to bite, you love the way it makes him groan all low in his throat.

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘I know I was playing dirty. You can totally take me.’ Of course, you need to stop getting so much out of being on top of him. ‘Fuck me, Dirk. I'll barely fight you for it.’

You run your hands up his side and down his arm to hold onto his wrist. You grind onto him with a bit more purpose, like you're riding him already. You need him naked, you let him go to tug at his clothes. He's so hot, fucking hell. You're almost embarrassingly desperate for him and whatever he can throw at you.

‘I’m calling bullshit,’ he says shakily.

He shifts so he can drag his teeth over your neck, his nails digging into your back. You lean into him until he grabs you by the hips and stills your movements.

‘Hal, I can’t fuck you if you don’t get off of me. I don’t know if you’ve realised this, but all of the dicks I own are in my room, not shoved up my ass where I can instantly retrieve them.’

You grumble about it, even though it was your idea. His hands feel awesome on you when they're firm, and you really can't fight his grip on your hip. You only want to test it a little. He doesn't let up so you sit up so you're straddling him.

You stroke down his chest until you reach the hem of his shirt and pull it up and off him. You run your hands over his exposed skin until you can feel both of you getting impatient and finally climb off him, pulling him up with you by the hand.

‘That'd be an actually cool superpower,’ you say. ‘Infinite dick storage. I can see the low budget porno now.’ You pull him back out of your room, walking backwards so you can keep feeling his chest up as you go. ‘I'd watch the shit out of that, and not just because you're hot as fuck.’

He kisses you and pushes you gently so you’re facing the right way. You smile to yourself and tug him a little faster to reach the door.

‘Let’s not revisit the stupid sex-based superhero talk, okay? I’m not interested in hearing about bonersonas again.’

He kisses you again before he opens his door. It’s hard to walk away from him, but you are pretty keen to get to his bed. You do your best not to bounce excitedly like a little kid when you’re sitting. You've been treated so far with a guy who absolutely treats sex like a duet, he's been possibly the least passive bottom you've ever had and you can't wait to see what it's like when he tops.

You're tempted to keep talking like an idiot, but you don't want to risk him even jokingly punishing you with no sex, so you keep yourself good. 

‘Aye aye, sir,’ you say as he opens his closet door. ‘Bet our bonersonas would totally be boyfriends though,’ you mutter under your breath.

‘What was that?’ he asks. You take your shirt and pants off instead of answering. 

You're doing your best not to fidget, but he couldn't be going fast enough for you if he was literally teleporting, you're looking forward to it that much. It’s harder than ever to keep still and on the bed when he strips naked and bends over into his closet. You think you could watch Dirk go about totally normal activities naked forever. You remind yourself that he's doing very important things that you're not going to fuck up by interrupting him.

‘Hey, you should close your eyes,’ he says, turning to wink at you. ‘Makes it hotter on your end.’

You have no idea if you have the self restraint necessary to keep your eyes closed, but the whole idea of it is hot as hell so you'll give it your best shot. 

‘Whatever you say,’ you tell him, obeying. Wow, that immediately makes you feel 100% more vulnerable and you're completely into it. ‘Are you gonna pull something really unexpected out while I can't see?’

You strain your ears, trying to keep aware of where he is by the sound of him getting dicked up. You really want to peek, you bet he looks hot as hell in a strap on, but the anticipation of not knowing what's happening is working for you so you make yourself behave. Plenty of time to act out later. You don't think you're anything close to a proper submissive dude, but you're pretty motivated to help things go smoothly at the moment. You want his dick in you _immediately_ , if not sooner.

‘I don’t have any of those Bad Dragon dildos if that’s what you’re thinking.’

You hear him walk over to you and it takes effort to keep your eyes closed. You shiver when he touches you and lean into him. Your eyelids flinch with the effort of not opening them before he tells you to. The bed dips as he sits next to you and then his arm is around your waist, lips on your neck in a way that is honestly unfair. Stupid vampire advantage. 

His teeth make you groan and reach for him, finding his lukewarm skin and feeling him up. He traces his fingers up your chest to play with a nipple. 

‘You can open your eyes now,’ he murmurs. ‘If you want.’

You really do. God, he's so hot. You attempt to communicate that and end up saying something like, ‘hrrngh,’ instead. You run your fingers along one of the straps on his hip hungrily. 

‘I'm so fucking lucky,’ you say. You probably shouldn't tell him you love him for the first time just because he wears the shit out that harness. You pull him in by the neck and kiss him deeply, trying to show him with your tongue instead.

He pinches your nipple before dragging his hand back down your chest and into your underwear, torturously close to your dick but just teasing at the skin close by. He starts to tug your underwear down and you move to make it easier. You're already hardening from the anticipation and you are definitely okay with doing whatever it is he wants from you. 

He stops kissing you on the lips and nips you on the earlobe and then digs his teeth into your collarbone. He pushes you onto your back by your hips and kisses you on the cheek. You don’t know what it is about the contrast between his hot, flirty bites and the way he’s so gentle with you, but you love it.

‘You’re so good,’ he tells you.

You're no stranger to sex, but this, being with someone who is so obviously caring about you, who's willing to go along with whatever you need and who has _customisable dicks,_ like, you've clearly hit the jackpot. You stroke at the bit of his back you can reach and use your leg to pull him closer.

‘You are,’ you counter. Good one, Hal. In your defense, you're way too busy being horny to be putting effort into your words. ‘Seriously, dude, you feel amazing.’

He strokes his hands all over you before choosing a spot on your chest, right over your sternum, to suck almost brutally. It makes you gasp and he follows it up with the lightest touches to your dick. You can't help but lift your hips a bit to chase the feeling.

‘Mhm, not as good as you,’ he says, lips still against your chest. ‘You should experience how amazing _you_ feel.’

‘I'd totally get nasty with a clone of me. Literally what else is the point of clones?’ You stroke along his back, feeling the tense edges of his muscles. You should give him a massage later, when you aren't being very effectively seduced.

You can't do much with him moving down your body, but you don't mind at all. Your usual compulsion to take control is definitely still alive and well, and in some ways it's worse with someone you're as competitive with as Dirk, but you also trust him and know that whatever he does to you is going to feel awesome.

‘I think I would end up fighting a clone of me,’ he says. He moves across to mouth at a nipple, the hand that isn’t on your dick pinching at the other one. You can’t help but make little breathy noises to encourage him.

‘I'll have to save the Dirk clones from you,’ you say, completely nonsensically. It’s hard to think straight as he makes his way down your chest with kisses and bites. He sucks a hickey onto the soft crease where your stomach meets your crotch. ‘Maybe it's better that we don't have any, I can barely handle one of you.’

You breathe a laugh as he kisses you on the dick and take one of your hands back to cushion your head with your elbow. You want to watch him as he does this, he's so ridiculously hot.

Dirk's eyes were intense when he was human. You like them even more now that they're a bit wild. You might be the biggest idiot in the world, wanting nothing more than to have his mouth on you when you know he's not exactly tried and tested on keeping his fangs away, but he's so good at this.

‘I can’t even begin to imagine how chaotic things would be with a bunch of Hal clones,’ he teases. ‘Minecraft would crash on a global scale immediately, I’m sure.’

He licks up your dick and just barely over the tip, you can’t be sure you really feel it or if it’s all in your head. Jesus, he's going to be the death of you. His tongue is nowhere near enough, but it's warm and wet and _fuck_ when he finally sucks you, you almost can't handle it. It's electric, right where you're most sensitive.

You're properly hard now, and aching for more of his attention. He's going to drive you insane. You're going to love every second of it. You're so keen for anything he can throw at you, and you think there's basically no way he's not going to ruin you when you're already this turned on.

‘Minecraft wouldn't know what hit it,’ you agree. ‘I'd make so many dick castles. All my castles are phallic, it's a principle thing. Equius fucking h-hates it, but h…’ it's hard to focus on your words, or even why you would remotely want to be trying to talk when his mouth feels this good.

Dirk pops his lips off your cock, looks up at you with pure sex in his eyes and asks you, ‘But?’ in what is obviously a challenge. You can’t protest when he’s immediately taking you back in his mouth. You’ll do anything he even remotely suggests.

 _’Fuck,’_ you swear. ‘But he doesn't get to take the high horse with me,’ you say, speaking quickly as if that'll keep you from stammering over your words. ‘Not when he's commissioned me for furry porn.’

He takes your ass cheek in hand as you speak, grabbing it in a way that makes your heart rate spike in anticipation.

You squirm against the sheets just a bit, if only so you don't give into the impulse to thrust into his mouth. You spread your legs wider, wanting him to have access to whatever he wants. His mouth feels so good.

‘Looked up so many, _fuck,_ Dirk …’ you struggle to keep your breathing normal as you talk about your friend's furry habit while getting a truly fantastic blow job. You have a weird life. ‘Horse cocks,’ you continue. ‘Sooo many r-reference pictures out there. Bronies got bank, bro.’

‘Did he like it?’ he asks, before nipping you on the ass with his teeth. _Fuck._

He clearly wants you to keep talking, even though he’s doing everything he can to make that impossible. You know you sound ridiculous, not even taking into account the subject matter, but you can’t care. Not when he’s licking teasingly over your asshole and then taking your cock back in his mouth again. 

You press your head back against your forearm and moan as he starts to play with your ass. You always forget how much you _like_ this until you're feeling it. He's not letting you focus on just one sensation though, he's doing something absolutely magical with your cock and his mouth and you really wish you could stay like this forever. You have no idea how you're expected to talk at the same time, but if Dirk wants you talking, you're talking.

‘Yeah,’ you groan. ‘I mean, I'm not putting on a mask or anything but also I'm not …’ It's so hard to focus when your dick is literally inside his throat. ‘Not uhh ... not getting nothing out of it.’ Did that even make sense? ‘Animals hot,’ you try and clarify.  
You're not sure if you answered his question or if either of you care about that. You think he's just playing with you, and you can’t come close to minding, not when he feels this good. It's taking all your brain power not to buck your hips, you're not focusing on what you're saying.

He pulls off you again and you whine, thrusting your hips up to chase his lips. He licks your head and kisses it but that’s all you can get from him before he’s talking again.

‘You sound so hot like this, fuck,’ he says. ‘Do you want me to suck you off until you come and then fuck you? Or how about I leave your dick alone now and start working on your ass?’

You struggle to pay attention to his words, but it's hard when he's already got you so worked up. You don't know what you want, either, both options sound amazing. Especially when his voice is rough and breathless from your dick, _Jesus,_ that's hot.

‘God, I want to come,’ you groan. But on the other hand ... it'll be better if he's fucking you. ‘Why am I like this, why do I want punishment? Leave my dick alone, want yours.’

You're almost struggling to keep from reaching down and doing it yourself, his fingers teasing your rim are driving you insane. You dig your fingers into the sheets to keep yourself behaving and breathe deeper to try and calm yourself down. It's not even remotely effective, not with Dirk in between your legs and looking at you like he wants to devour you.

‘Are you sure?’ he teases.

You’re about to curse him with every swear word you know when he strokes your dick slowly and all the fight goes out of you. He pushes your cheeks apart with his other hand. You suck in a harsh breath as his tongue touches to your hole again. You squirm your legs wider, lifting your hips to try and be as accessible as possible. You're torn between wanting him down there forever and wanting him to fuck you as hard as he can as soon as possible.

‘Yeah, oh my God,’ you say as he starts to tongue your ass properly. ‘You're so good, _fuck.’_ You think he's gotten you too used to talking now, you can't seem to shut it off.

He feels so good. His hand is torturously light on your dick which is still wet and almost cold now that he's taken his mouth away, his tongue is now pressing into you and making you crave more, his fingers are digging into your ass and sending electric sensations to where they pull at your skin. It's all perfect and you still want more.

He pulls back and you shift impatiently, but then his wet finger is pressing at your hole. You still, not wanting to jostle him even a bit. 

‘How’s that?’

You’re so focused on the feeling you even stop breathing, and it takes a couple of seconds to process his question. He's looking up at you and you almost get distracted just staring at him. He's so gorgeous and he definitely is expecting an answer.

‘Yes,’ you groan. ‘Yes, so good. More, please Dirk.’

Okay, talking is risky. If he keeps you talking and keeps doing such amazing things to your body, you're going to end up doing something really stupid like confessing your love just because you're enjoying getting dicked down.

It doesn't help that he's kissing you gently on your thigh and looking at you like that. You want him inside you properly, you want to buck your hips and force him deeper, but if his skill at oral is any indication, you should just leave it completely up to him.

You breathe heavily as he starts moving his finger, every thrust of it sending the best kinds of sensation tingling through you. His teeth on your thigh make you flinch just a bit and moan as the almost-pain of it draws even more of your attention and sensitivity between your legs.

‘You taste so fucking good,’ he says. ‘You should bottom more often; you’re so hot like this.’

‘Yeah,’ you agree. You can't remember now why you ever do anything that isn't this. Surely you should just want this all the time. ‘Holy _fuck_ that feels good.’ You make a wordless noise of appreciation as he sucks on your thigh. It starts as a kind of hum and then gets higher and louder as your mouth opens when he pushes a second finger into you.

Your ass feels tight around them, and you want to relax, want it to be easy for him to give you even more, want to feel him stretch you, to make it even more intense, but you're so turned on and it feels so good with your body tense. He licks at your dick and you're so overwhelmed with good feelings that you feel yourself relax without even forcing it. You groan lowly as your legs fall bonelessly against the bed. 

‘Fuck,’ you breathe.

He starts to suck you off again, fingering you until you’re almost frustrated by only having two fingers. He has to be getting impatient too though, because just when you’re about to start demanding he fuck you he starts to kiss and nip back up your body.

You watch his progress as he starts to kiss up your body, lifting your now heavy and clumsy arm so that you can stroke his hair out of his face. He's so gorgeous, you can't handle it. You let your head tip back so he can kiss your throat and take advantage of him being in reach, feeling up his chest and sides as he gets the lube.

He grabs it and returns to kiss you, slowly easing his fingers out of you.

‘You’re perfect,’ he whispers.

Your heart seizes a bit at his words. It's so intimate and he sounds so ... sincere. You've never come close to feeling this, like you're _cherished._ You kiss him back, hand on his cheek, wondering why it is that loving him aches this much. You want to hold him as close as you can, but you're not messing up the relaxed state he's gotten you into.

‘Dirk, I …’ you start, but it's terrifying, and a lump in your throat saves you from being able to talk past your fear. ‘Want you inside me so fuckin' bad,’ you say. It's true, not just because you feel empty and needy without his fingers, but because there's space between you and that's never been okay but it's intolerable now.

He kisses you soothingly, like he’s agreeing with you, and then turns his attention to fingering you with actual lube. You appreciate it, spit dries way too fast to be comfortable. He kisses you again as he lubes up his dick. 

You love the way his lips move against yours, love the way his tongue feels. He's so precise about his movements as he puts the lube away, you're falling more and more in love with every gesture he makes.

‘Is this okay?’

‘Yes, oh my _God,’_

You wrap your legs around his hips and dig into his ass with your heels, trying to get him deeper. His dick is hard, so hard and perfect and you moan as he slides into you. You feel almost crowded by him, he's so overwhelmingly on top of you and fucking hell it's amazing. His dick is stretching you more than his fingers could and it's so sensitive. You want him harder, faster. Your fingers dig into his back and you pull him closer.

 _’Please,’_ you whine.

He groans and wraps an arm around you, biting your shoulder and pausing buried deep inside you. He doesn’t make you beg again though, thrusting slow and deep. He kisses you on the jaw, then the lips. He nips at your lower lip before moaning into your mouth.

You know you should ease into it, especially because it's been a while since you've bottomed, but it feels _so good._ He's so close, right up in your business and you still hold him closer.

‘Hal,’ he murmurs. ‘You’re gorgeous like this.’

‘Think I'm gonna let you see this side of me more, holy _shit,_ Dirk,’ you say. ‘You're unfairly good at this, oh my God.’

You rock your hips up to meet his thrusts, taking a leg away from his hips to plant your foot into the mattress for leverage.

You almost want to flip him over, to take control and fuck yourself on his dick, but there's nothing that could feel better than this. If there's anyone you trust to drive you out of your mind with the power of cock it's him.

‘Good,’ he says. ‘You suit it.’

He kisses you again and then changes the angle, pinning you down by your shoulders and making you whine. You let him go, shamefully turned on by his strength, staring hungrily at the shape of his chest, at his muscles shifting as he moves. He's so fucking hot.

Then he takes your dick in hand. 

‘Oh fuck-shit-damn, ohh my God,’ you groan. You buck your hips and cry out as he hits you right where you want him. ‘There,’ you gasp, grabbing at his hip like you can make it happen again and again.

Your mind is almost blank except for the need for more of this pleasure. His every thrust is sparking through you and it's all you can do to keep from literally screaming, the noises you're making are plenty loud enough. You're going to come so fucking fast and you can't make yourself care.

‘Is that good?’ he asks, as if you aren’t reduced to a fucking mess underneath him. His hand on your dick speeds up even as he starts to fuck you harder and faster. 

It's so much and you have no real way to process it. Your fingers are like stiff claws around his hips, your whole body tense as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. You want it so badly, but you're too far gone to do anything to chase it, you just have to take what Dirk's doing to you.

‘Come for me, Hal, c’mon,’ he pants. ‘You’re so fuckin’ good, please.’

His voice is sex-rough and low and possibly the hottest thing you've ever heard. He's urging you on with everything he's got. You feel your cock start to pulse and the relief of it all makes you make a strangled, "Nngah," type of noise. It's wet and messy against your stomach and chest but you can't bring yourself to care.

You're almost ridiculously relaxed once you finish, moaning low and appreciatively as he continues to move over you. You want to kiss him, but you're not going to break the rhythm he's got going on. You watch his expression wondrously, too braindead to know how to help him come too.

He doesn’t need anything except for the friction you’re giving him though, and his grip on you is tightening, holding his dick deep inside you as he comes. 

He kisses you gently on the neck as he recovers, then your lips. 

‘You did so good,’ he says, unbuckling his harness with one hand like a pro. He grabs a pack of tissues from his nightstand with just as much baffling post-sex coordination. 

‘Fuck,’ you breathe. You try to help him with the tissues, but you actually might be just getting in the way so you give in and let him take over. _’Fuck,_ Dirk, that was some choice dick wizardry right there.’

You wait until he's done cleaning you up and pull him into your arms so you can squeeze him affectionately. You think now is probably the time when you should be feeling a bit embarrassed about how obviously you were into that, if for no other reason than the fact that you have neighbours who probably hate your guts now, but you feel too good for that.

You stroke up his back and kiss him lazily. All that tension from before, that antsy need to get close to him and to know he was safe and yours, it's completely gone. Of course everything will be alright. He's right here.

‘And I don’t even have an authentic 100% natural dick.’ He cups your cheek and strokes it gently, before kissing you on the temple. ‘I can’t believe you actually let me fuck you. I was fully convinced that you were going to pull the same shit you did in the shower and I was going to look like a dumbass wearing a strap on while getting fucked.’

You cuddle him closer and sigh, nose to nose with him. You roll him over to the edge of the bed, moving over the top of him, so you can grab some blankets and wrap them around both of you. You aren't cold, not after getting all worked up, but you know you will be, especially with Mr Human Popsicle as a cuddle buddy.

‘I considered taking over,’ you admit. ‘Still wanted the dick, but I could've ridden you. Be hot to fuck you with your dick on though, that harness is really sexy.’

You pull his hips towards you, fitting your leg between his. His skin feels amazing and he's so beautiful. You stroke over his side, feeling the indent where his harness pressed in over his hip. You kiss him gently along his jaw, loving the feeling under your lips. You couldn't kiss him enough during the sex, it's nice to just relax in the closeness.

‘Of course you did. Cowboy Hal is not a bad idea, though.’ He kisses you on the nose. You love how he just _does_ stuff like that. ‘Wouldn’t fucking me while I’m wearing a strap on be somewhat redundant?’

‘Mmm, yeah, but that's hot too. Contingency plans and all that, leaving it open for creative use of dick. Problem being that I like your real dick too much to cover it up all the time.’

There's something about the way that you're cuddling that almost feels normal now. Like you've done it enough that you've got spots, that you fit together in a certain way. It's satisfying, you like the feel of his body so much.

You like that you've basically got the day off. You're probably going to insist that you both spend a bit of time talking to people to ensure you won't have any other unexpected visitors, but that can come later. For now, you can just cuddle him and talk shit without that vague antsy feeling that you're breaking the rules.

He brushes your hair out of your face and then catches a long strand, curling it around his finger. He combs it back into the rest of your hair with his fingers and keeps playing. 

‘I’m really hoping that my cause of death turns out to be “creative use of dick” now,’ he says. ‘I get what you mean, but because of you my real dick is often more exposed than it is covered. Is this all some elaborate scheme to push me into the nudist life?’

Dirk's eyes are soft with exhaustion, more so than you've seen in a while. Your plan _was_ to try and encourage him to sleep while you worked, he has catching up to do in that department. You think you can probably reach your phone from here if he falls asleep and you aren't ready to. Worst case scenario, you get another nap.

‘You got me," you say. ‘I was trying to ease you into it, get you all comfy with me and then one day, bam, you've been naked for three months and haven't even realised.’

You kiss his neck, on one of the bruises that you gave him that's fading greenly into his skin again. He's definitely healing faster than a regular human. He's faster too, obviously. And the territorial thing might be less than ideal, but he was able to control that and you bet with practice that'll get better. You're pretty sure the government dismissed the "hellbound" argument a while back. Why is it exactly that vampires are treated like they're inhuman?

‘Fuck,’ he mumbles. His eyes close for a second too long and he jerks them open with his whole body. ‘I’ve been giving you the benefit of the doubt this whole time and you’re just trying to pull the rug out from under me. I feel shocked and betrayed, Hal.’

‘You feel nothing but tired, bro, admit it.’ You press your lips to his, enjoying the way they feel soft and lazy. ‘I'm doing a public service, anyway. You're too gorgeous not to be using the world as your catwalk.’

You kiss him on the forehead while his eyes are closed and smile when he opens them again. Your sex continues to cure his insomnia. He's fucking adorable when he's sleepy, and there's something so special about being trusted like this.

‘Mmm, no. I am so awake right now. I’m currently, like, the most wide awake person in the world. It’s me.’

You just about jump out of your skin when your phone starts blaring Pon Pon Pon. You might have been keeping some weird hours lately, but you're pretty sure even Jade coming over before was bordering on rudely late, and you've had time to get boned very thoroughly since then. You disentangle yourself from Dirk, who is groaning and shoving his head under the pillow instead of helping you at all, and grab your phone. You're not surprised that it's Sollux, because it'd be even weirder if it were anyone else, but your stomach clenches with anxiety regardless.

‘Sollux,’ you tell Dirk before answering it.

‘Jade snitched,’ Sollux says, no preamble, no carefully choosing words he won't lisp over.

‘Fuck.’ 

You put your phone on speaker and tug Dirk into a sideways hug as the only measure of reassurance you have for him. He squeezes your hand and breathes in audibly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of sex pretty much from the start, sex scene ends with, "He kisses you gently on the neck as he recovers, then your lips." If you're skipping this scene, it's important to know that Hal lets Dirk take the reins and there's a lot of trust and love happening here. Also, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mwg1sEzX7pU) version of Pon Pon Pon.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk and Hal discuss their options. And their feelings.

You hold your phone and glare at your hand as if that’ll make it less likely to shake. You’re gripping Dirk to you as well, but you can’t pay attention to him right now. Sollux is already continuing.

‘She came over, significantly later than when you updated me, and she was all “something's wrong there but I fixed it” and then it took a while to get her to admit what she meant because she's a stubborn fuck but I got the story out of her and then kicked her out. You _are_ okay, right?’

‘Yes, you fuck, I can handle myself,’ you say testily. ‘Everything's under control, I just didn't know that vampires weren't particularly jazzed about people coming into their space.’

‘You should have researched this shit,’ Sollux says. You press your lips together to suppress the urge to shout at him. You _have_ , a bit. And it's not like you knew this was going to happen. ‘Kay Enn says that the first bit's rough as fuck, she was in official quarantine like a rule-abiding person and it was still a nightmare.’

‘Cayenne?’ you ask.

‘Kanaya. Do you not know her? Dee Ess probably knows her, she's in some kind of unfathomable relationship with Rose. Whatever, that doesn't matter, what matters is you probably only have 'til morning before someone comes knocking at your door. Are you running or facing the law?’

‘Talk me through what those mean,’ you say. Dirk's staring at the wall rather than you, but you can keep this together for him. You'll sort it out.

‘You couldn't come here if you ran, that'd be insane, I'm one of like, three people you talk to. That rules out a lot of other people too ... And the sun is an absolute bitch of a situation, good on you for being allergic to something so unavoidable, DS. We've got, what, eight hours until sunrise? We could come up with a plan before that, it's not like he's killed anyone or a confirmed vampire on the loose, it's one report and we can call in some false ones under Jade's name, fudge the records a bit so this one's dismissed too.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ you say.

‘You asked. Facing it means DS is registered and quarantined. Registration means he has to check in fortnightly to report his fucking toenail clippings to the government and basically announce his status to everyone he converses to for more than a sentence. You'd be registered as a companion if that's what you're doing and that's not exactly a high class place to sit, not in Texas at least. Did you know this shit?’

You're about to reply, but Dirk suddenly zones in and interrupts you, shaking his head. Your focus is on him immediately.

‘You aren’t doing anything,’ he says. ‘No matter how we handle this, you’re legally fucked unless I willingly let them take me. I’m not letting that happen to you.’

‘But I—we have to at least consider our options,’ you say. You drop your phone onto the bed and take his face in your hands. It almost feels too intimate, like you're in front of Sollux somehow, but you need this. ‘If we can just lay low while Sollux does his _Matrix_ bullshit, maybe we can trick them that you're still …’ You don't want to say human. You don't want to imply he isn't anymore. You've never felt more connected to anyone ever, he's the most human person in the world.

‘Hal, I have a scar on my neck that’s half the size of my hand. I can’t even keep myself chilled out with only one person walking in. Do you really think I can avoid going apeshit if a bunch of fucking cops decide to stop by? There’s no guarantee that we can cover this up. In fact, I’d say that our chances are pretty depressingly slim. Even if we did call in false reports under Jade’s name, we can’t assume that they wouldn’t pass up investigating this one.’

Dirk reaches up to place a hand over one of yours, rubbing slow circles into it like he can massage your stress away. You’ve never felt so helpless in your life.

‘It isn’t like we even have a guaranteed period of eight hours before someone decides to visit. No one’s stupid enough to pick up a vampire during the day, so they’re going to be knocking on the door tonight or, if they decide to slack on this case—which I seriously doubt—sometime after sunset tomorrow. We’re fucked.’

He places his other hand on your as well. You bite your lip and stare into his eyes. You want to hide him away from the world, but it's so much easier to say that than actually follow through. In reality you have no idea what it would mean, but it couldn't be easy.

‘It’s not fair to drag Sollux’s ass into legal trouble either.’ He’s so fucking rational and you hate it. ‘If that happens, you’ll risk getting something extra in addition to this on your records. Your shit isn’t exactly clean.’ He pauses and squeezes your hands. ‘It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay,’ he says, quieter and softer.

‘I'd do it," you tell him. 

You can’t put his expression into words, but you think yours might be mirroring his. 

‘Okay, you guys are adorable but you need to focus. If you're facing the cops then there's other shit you can do so it doesn't look like you got caught. Hal, send a failed email, backdate it a couple days so it looks like you made an attempt. When the cops get there, pretend like you just thought bureaucracy had failed, like they'd get around to you eventually. Pretend like when they rock up it's because you contacted them, not the other way around.’

You nod, realise he can't see you and choke out a, ‘Yeah.’ You're still looking at Dirk. He's all that matters.

‘I'm gonna do a cleanup, just in case they snoop into your work records.’

Sollux hangs up before you can thank him, which is probably just as well. You have the decency to glance at your phone to make sure the call disconnected before you kiss Dirk. You don't want to be apart from him for even a second. Your fingers press into his neck before you force yourself to hold him more gently. You try and convey all your love through your kiss.

He wraps his arms around you and holds you close as he kisses you back. It almost feels like your message is getting across, being accepted and returned. He feels so nice, soft and almost warm, infinitely precious. You love him so fucking much.

He pulls back and there's anxiety in his brow, in the way he takes his time to stroke your hair rather than just saying what's on his mind. If he's come up with some ridiculous, self-sacrificing plan …

He kisses you once more, gentle and sweet.

‘I love you,’ he says quietly against your lips.

_Oh._

You weren't going to say it, needed to keep it to yourself because it's too soon and you haven't said it before, not like this, and you didn't know how it was supposed to go, telling someone you love them for the first time. You didn't think he was going to beat you to it. It only takes you a second or two to process, but it's too long, far too long to let him exist in the world without hearing it back.

‘Yes,’ you agree breathlessly, kissing him firmly. ‘I love you too.’ You want to tell him every single thing about him that you love, from the way you can't help but be a little competitive even over this, to his cuddly as fuck sleeping habits to the way he has, every single time, worried selflessly about you when you were willing to give him everything. He's beautiful, he drives you insane, he's _fun_ and you feel so safe with him. But you can't stop kissing him to get your thoughts out.

He pulls back and hides his face in your shoulder. You catch a glimpse of his smile before he does.

‘Looks like you broke my face this time,’ he says.

You hold him as tightly as you can. Your chest feels tense and your eyes are burning, but you're pretty sure you're not going to cry. You clear your throat as you hold his head into your shoulder. While he's there, he can't see you looking like an idiot.

‘Sorry, face. Love your face,’ you tell him. You press your lips to his hair. ‘Does this make us boyfriends? Fuck, that sounds stupid, ignore me, I'm emotionally compromised, the best, kindest, most adorablest, hottest, cleverest guy I know just told me he loves me, holy fuck, I'm so …’

You make a stupid noise of pure affection and press your face into his neck. Fuck, you don't know if you can handle this. You might explode, literally splatter your guts all over the room.

You can't let him go. You're not going to be able to deal when they take him away from you, it's just not _fair_. You just found him! Not really, he's been under your nose for literally years, but you didn't realise ... You don't think you can let him go without a fight. He'd kill you if he knew you were thinking that.

He kisses you on your neck before replying.

‘If ... If you want to be,’ he says. He has more colour in his face than you’ve seen so far, you think that’s as close as he can get to blushing. ‘How do you think I feel? You’re all of those things times ten,’ he mumbles against your neck.

Neither of you are talking about it, about what you know is coming. You don't know if you _can._ It's nicer, surely, to just have however much time you've got left like this. Maybe rest a little, make out, just love each other until …

‘I want,’ you tell him. Maybe you can visit him. That might go against the quarantine rules. Surely you'll at least be able to call him. Fuck, you'll write him letters if that's what it takes. ‘I don't care if you have to drink from other people, or what happens there, I just want to be ... want this to be special.’

Maybe you shouldn't have brought it up. But it's important that he knows, that he doesn't beat himself up if ... You fucking hate the idea of him feeding on someone who isn't you, of them hooking up because of it. You're possessive and clingy, but you'd rather have this _romance_ than force him into a situation where he feels like he's cheating on you. You think you hate the idea of him sleeping cold and alone more than you anything else about this situation.

‘I think,’ he says, pulling back enough so that he can give you a serious look. He threads his fingers with yours. ‘I think I can separate my brain from my dick. Especially if it’s not you.’ You hate that you stopped him from smiling. ‘You know I didn’t fuck that guy the other night, right?’

You feel a strange combination of relieved and concerned. Because you weren't sure, didn't know if that was part of what he wanted the other night, couldn't hold it against him if it was when you hadn't made your feelings clear. But that isn't the point anyway, he's not going out to a club. You have no idea how long he'll be wherever he'll be, or what he'll go through.

‘It's ... I'm not questioning your self control or your faithfulness.’ You keep eye contact, needing him to see your sincerity. ‘I'm just saying ... I just want you to be okay no matter what and I don't want you worrying about that if it makes it easier. So long as _this_ is ours …’ You put your hand on his chest, over his heart.

You don't know how to communicate what you mean. It's all still so new, obviously you aren't hyper-protective of everything from your roommate relationship. But the bits that are special ... You probably shouldn't have said anything. It's not like anyone could possibly replace him, not even if they watched movies with you and cuddled you and made ridiculous conversation while you had sex. You guess you just want to be able to hold onto the label. Make anyone else just food, because you're his boyfriend.

‘I get what you mean here, but I’m not doing that. I don’t want to do that, and I definitely don’t plan on it.’ He covers your hand on his heart with his own and you wrap your thumb around his hand in a strange finger cuddle. Getting closer and more entwined with him just feels natural. ‘I’m not going to worry about it because it’s not going to happen. I want you, not anyone else. I’m not interested in shacking up with people in vampire prison for the sake of making it easier.’

‘Okay,’ you agree. It's comforting, if you're being honest. You don't want him with anyone else. ‘Um, same. I'm just yours.’

It probably goes without saying. But you felt awkward not reciprocating. You're not exactly sex-crazed under normal circumstances, but after being with Dirk ... he's perfect. No one else could compare to how amazing he feels or the connection you feel to him.

He kisses you on the cheek. Your heart melts.

‘I'm gonna send the thing. Maybe you should ... tell your brother?’ 

You don't know what you'd do in his position and maybe he's already told people, but it's probably worth letting someone know that he might not be available for a bit. You don't want Dave coming over to interrogate you. He's a nice guy and everything, you just get the sense that if he felt the need to punch someone then they'd feel it.

He kisses you on the temple and just kinda … lingers. You close your eyes and breathe him in. He eventually nods.

‘Yeah. I think I’m going to tell him and the others. I don’t want anyone storming the place if I’m gone long enough for them to think you’ve finally snapped on my ass and gotten rid of me.’ He kisses you on the lips. ‘We need to get dressed too. I don’t want to risk flashing the cops when they get here.’

You probably should get up, stop kissing him and do what he says. What _you_ said. It's just that this is so nice. You nudge your nose against his, just feeling the closeness of his face. You can't believe you're just going along with this. You just can't drag him kicking and screaming into a life of hiding.

‘They should be so lucky,’ you say. You run your hand down and over his chest and to his hip. ‘You're so fucking gorgeous. Okay, no, getting up before I fall down a loving Dirk rabbit hole.’ You kiss him one last time, lingering because you can't help yourself, and stand up.

‘You really need to look in a mirror,’ he says. ‘You’re missing out big time if this is what you think gorgeous is.’ 

You grab your phone, but you need your laptop to make it look like your email got filed into their junk folder a couple days ago. It's a handy bit of coding that Sollux came up with to get himself out of a cancellation fee at the dentist. They needed a week's notice. He "proved" he'd given it. 

You pick up your clothes too and hold them to your chest. You think you'll go with actual jeans like a respectable person, so you just need to take these back to your room. You don't want to leave Dirk for even a second and it's making you hesitate like a weirdo.

You look back and he’s just staring at you as you straighten up. Okay, nice not to be the only lech in the relationship. Ha, your boyfriend who loves you was just checking you out.

‘I'm gonna …’ you start, before you realise the ridiculousness of reporting exactly what you already said you were going to do. You point at the door, decide it's more ridiculous to trail off and just say it. ‘Dress, get laptop.’ Come back here because even if you weren't about to be separated you want ever second you can with him. You shift your clothes into one arm so you can cup his cheek and kiss him.

‘Right,’ he says.

Back in your room, you dress yourself in jeans and a t-shirt. Casual, not like you're dressing up for cops that you shouldn't know are coming, but not stained pajamas. You decide to take the time to brush your teeth, shave and run a comb through your hair. It's not like if you're presentable they'll like you better, but any tiny thing that gives you confidence …

You grab your laptop and head back to Dirk's room, dropping heavily onto the bed like it's the most casual thing in the world to share his space like this. You open the lid and navigate to your email, wondering how the fuck you're supposed to phrase this.

You focus on your laptop so Dirk has his privacy even though it's _so tempting_ to peek over his shoulder. You're arm to arm with him, close enough to almost satisfy the continual desperation for intimacy, and it almost feels normal. Like you've gotten used to this.

Jesus Christ but how do you phrase this. You've been trying to figure out exactly _why_ all of this is done basically since vampirism came properly on your radar. It's not like you weren't aware of it, but Dirk being turned was the first time it affected you and you guess you just didn't care before then.

You're starting to think that wasn't accidental either. Not on a personal level, who would care if you personally had a stake (lol) in vampires? But on a societal level, you think people aren't supposed to think of them. And when they do, it's almost always in this really fetishistic way, or as the butt of a joke where some hopeless character gets dragged into sunlight or falls backwards into a stake. Almost like they're supposed to look vulnerable, when they aren't associated with sluttiness or villainy.

‘How’s the email coming along?’ he asks, putting his phone to the side.

‘I want to write what they want to hear,’ you admit. ‘I'm not quite sure what that is. I think I'm overthinking it. And I was thinking ... maybe we should say we've been together longer than we have. I don't know if there's an emergency contact kind of situation here, but that whole bullshit romantic partners counting for more than just friends thing might be something.’

He kisses you on the cheek, basically on your jaw, soft lips dragging against your freshly shaved skin. 

‘They’re cops. I wouldn’t overthink it too much. As for what they want to hear …’ he says. ‘I don’t know. You don’t want to go to the extreme and sound like you’re the leader of a vampire hate group, assuming that’s along the lines of the type of shit they want to hear. They likely aren’t going to put too much thought into it if you just explain that your roommate came home with a chunk taken out of his neck and needs to be quarantined, though.’ he pauses. ‘And uh, yeah. We’ve been living together for years. They can’t disprove that. I’d say anywhere from six months to a year would earn you emergency contact rights. If that’s a thing.’

You nod. You aren't too worried about lying to the cops about this. You know each other well enough that you'll pull it off without trying and frankly the level of affection and love you've got going on here is almost unbelievable for a thing that's been going less than a week. Holy shit. It really hasn't been that long. It's just been so _intense._

‘Okay. _Dear sir/madam,_ that's a safe greeting. _This email is to inform you that my boyfriend Dirk was bitten by a vampire last night and turned without his consent. I'm looking after him and he seems okay for the moment, but I'd very much appreciate_ ... Is that too much? I'm thinking if I phrase it like I want their help and trust the system rather than straight out 'vampires bad' or whatever.’

Even that sounds unbelievably naive to you. You know almost nothing about this process but you know it's not something you'd ever wish on a loved one. It's not like vampires have awesome lives in general, but the worst part has to be this official process. Even people like you who aren't crazy about the various trappings of a human existence wouldn't want to put up with the bullshit just so they could have cool fangs or whatever. The sex is definitely a bonus, and the strength might be a selling point for some people, but you can't think of why anyone would want to be turned.

 _Oh._ Okay, cool. All the disadvantages are societal shit. The reliance on blood isn't exactly awesome and neither is the sun vulnerability or food sensitivity, but if it weren't for their place for society a lot more people would probably consider that a fair exchange.

Dirk lets his head fall onto your shoulder and cuddles up to you. 

‘Hal,’ you say. ‘It’s fine. Again, they’re cops. I don’t think they’re going to read into this like it’s an assignment in a literature class, especially since it’s likely that the majority of the emails they get border on incomprehensible. Just tell them that I need to be registered and quarantined for the safety of myself and others, thank them, and send it. Don’t worry so much about it.’

You do as he says, almost word for word. It makes you feel gross, calling him unsafe. You're trying to reassure yourself that this is necessary, that the closer to rule abiding you get then the easier they'll be on Dirk, but it's not until you've triggered the program to send it tagged like it's from shortly after he really was turned that you think of something that increases your unease by just about as much as it could be.

What if Jade didn't actually report him? Or if they dismissed her without following it up? What if you've just reported him and you could have gotten away with it all? You feel sick. You close your laptop and push it away before hiding your face in Dirk's neck. You can't admit to what you might have just done. You can't tell him. You need him to keep loving you.

‘Love you,’ you mumble, choosing to focus on that. Because you do. You would never intentionally hurt him. Fuck you hope your anxiety is all for nothing. You hold onto his top with your fingers like you can anchor yourself to him. You don't want him to go. You wish wildly that you'll get a nice cop who will see how tame and good Dirk is and exempt him from quarantine. You feel foolish for even thinking it.

He kisses you on the top of your head, comforting you even though you might have just fucked everything up so much worse.

‘I love you too,’ he says.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vampire police: descend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up until this point, both parts in Temptations have been basically describing the same events but from different perspectives. I've made an effort to edit them so that there's enough variety in them that it's not a chore to read both, but from now on there are going to be some serious divergences. You can absolutely still just read one path or the other, but both parts will be released at the same time going forward!
> 
> You can find Dirk's side of the story, [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19077022/chapters/45319084).

Even against all else, it makes you smile to hear Dirk say he loves you again. God, it's such a bittersweet feeling. All your happiness is wound up in the knowledge that this is temporary and you can't stand that. Not temporary. You'll get him back.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks.

You swallow and roll his shirt between your fingers. You cannot be this asshole. The one who needs comfort from Dirk because you know that he's going to go through something bad and that upsets you. Every time you think about it, you feel this awful wave of anxiety roll down your chest like a shiver that doesn't make it all the way out.

You clear your throat and shift your head so you can press your cheek against his, kissing him without moving away. You feel like you might cry if you look at him properly and you're just not doing that. 

‘Yeah. I mean, no, this sucks. I'd do anything to keep you here and safe with me.’ But there isn't anything. You fucking hate not being in control.

‘I know,’ he says. ‘You’re way too willing to do dumb shit for my sake. I’m going to be fine though. I promise.’ He kisses you. ‘Okay? And then I’ll get out and we won’t have to worry about it anymore.’

You make a sincere effort to be cheered up. You don't want to ruin the last bit of peace Dirk will have for a while. You let yourself rest heavy in his arms and be kissed for just a small moment and then hold yourself up and kiss him properly. It's not like that's a difficult thing to find motivation to do.

'Yeah,' you agree. 'Yeah, you'll probably be running the place by day two, scheduling what days everyone's allowed to wash their sheets or whatever.' 

His sheet schedule is actually useful, not that you’ve ever or will ever admit it. But still. Very uncool. 

‘Yeah, sure,’ he says, smirking. ‘Remember how much you bitched about that when I brought it up for the first time?’

You sit up properly so you can drag him into a more horizontal cuddle. He brushes your hair out of your face. You don't think you can come up with a topic that isn't _this,_ so you're about to suggest watching a movie on your laptop, when …

Look, it's not like you weren't expecting the knock on the door at some point, but it does startle you in the moment and you hate whoever it is just based off how they knock. Too confident and authoritative. Almost makes you feel like the apartment, your _home,_ falls under their jurisdiction. You kiss Dirk desperately instead of moving. Last chance to have him all to yourself for you don't know how long. He's almost entirely pressed against you and it only makes you want to hold him closer, to somehow absorb him into you so he'll be safe.

‘I love you so fucking much,’ he tells you, barely breaking your kiss to speak.

You don't want to answer the door. You want to stay here and make out with Dirk as if nothing is wrong. He pretty clearly is on board for that plan too. Which probably means that you have to be the responsible one and do the cop thing. Jesus, if it was bad with relatively harmless Jade, surely it's not going to be better with whoever they sent.

‘It's all okay,’ you tell him, stroking his back. ‘I love you. We're okay. Is there anything I can do to make this better?’

At least there isn't the pressure of trying not to hide him this time. Maybe if you keep a hold of him the whole time? Or if he waits in the lounge while you do the awkward greeting part? You hate this feeling like everything's about to go badly and there's nothing you can do about it except watch him chew on his bottom lip.

‘Just ... let me hold your hand,’ he says. ‘If you’re okay with that.’

There's another knock at the door, just as confident as the first, and Dirk tenses even more somehow. It's not a knock of someone impatient, it's like they're just making sure you know they're still there and they will be coming in. You don't doubt that they're allowed to break in if you don't answer within a certain time frame. You really don't think that would help Dirk's territorial stuff.

He gets up without you forcing the issue. You sit up but stay on the bed while he stands. You take his hand and pull it up to your lips, kissing him like he's a prince and this is the only way you have to show him that your love for him is so much more than just monarchism. You look up at him, holding the kiss. You hope he knows how much you mean it, how much you'd do anything for him. He smiles, just a little. The best kind of victory.

You use his hand to pull yourself to your feet as well and squeeze his fingers reassuringly. The journey to the door feels about 10 times as long as it usually does. You look at Dirk to see how he's doing (not exactly fantastic but that's fair) before taking a breath and opening the door.

There's two of them, a woman in bright red sunglasses smaller than you but with the same confidence as the man who towers over all three of you. The woman is grinning as much as the man is scowling. Neither expression feels particularly appropriate given the circumstances.

‘Good evening!’ the woman says. ‘I am Neophyte Pyrope, this is my partner Detective Ampora, and we're here to follow up on the report of a new vampire at this residence!’ She grins at you both, takes in your appearances with an obvious up and down and continues. ‘May we come in to discuss the next step of your afterlife?’

‘Yeah,’ Dirk says, stepping to the side of his own volition. You’re ridiculously proud of his show of humanity.

Pyrope looks around curiously and without any sense of shame on her way to the lounge. You pull Dirk to sit on the couch next to you and make a gesture offering the other one to the cops. You can't seem to speak, your throat feels thick with nerves. You put your other hand on Dirk's as well so that you don't chew on your thumbnail. He stacks the last of your four collective hands on top and you resist the urge to continue the game.

‘So! When were you turned?’ Pyrope asks. She sits. Ampora doesn't.

‘The 7th?’ you say, looking at Dirk for confirmation. ‘Sorry, it's him that's the ... He wasn't supremely cool when a friend came over, I'm not just one of those douchebags who doesn't let his boyfriend speak for himself. I mean, I might be that too, I don't know—’

‘Yes,’ Dirk says stiffly. ‘Yeah, sounds right,’ he corrects.

‘And what has your diet been like?’

‘Me,’ you say at the same time that Dirk says, ‘Him.’ God, why are you so fucking awkward. 

You feel like you're screwing this whole thing up. It's not like you could have prepared, really, but a lifetime of disrespect for the law that started with digital piracy and has recently climbed to _let's run away together_ type logic has not equipped you with a natural friendliness in this situation.

‘Do you know your blood type, human?’ Ampora asks. 

It's about when he addresses you by your species that you remember that you never actually did introductions and are hit by the realisation that at least in his books, you're not any better off than Dirk. You sit up a bit straighter.

‘My name's Hal, I assume you know this is Dirk. And I don't know …’

Ampora pulls out a white box from his coat as he walks towards you and holds it out towards you. You can see a small hole in it, but you have no idea what you're supposed to do with it. You look at Pyrope for guidance even though Ampora is right there, stroking your thumb over Dirk's hand in an effort to keep him calm.

‘Pop your finger in, there'll be a little prick and then we'll know!’ Pyrope says. ‘I'm afraid it's important, especially if you've been his sole source of blood this whole time.’

Cool. Take a hand away from Dirk and then stab it. He'll be fine with that.

‘Do you _seriously_ think it’s a good idea to prick a dude’s finger for blood next to a new, overly territorial vampire?’ Dirk asks, glaring at Ampora.

‘That's what the box is for,’ Pyrope says. ‘It should mask the sight and smell. We can restrain you if you think that's necessary!’

You know what Dirk was like when you last ... exposed your blood. But he's come a long way from then and you really don't want them touching him, so you pull one of your hands free from the pileup and poke your finger into the hole. Dirk turns his head away.

It barely stings, and you shove your finger in your mouth once it's done. You can't even taste the blood, you hope it pierced the skin. You don't want to do it again and risk losing your other hand to Dirk's anxiety. 

‘We good?’ you check.

Ampora nods and backs away again. Even though you know space isn't exactly a guarantee of anything, you feel better with him not within Dirk's reach. You lean your body into Dirk's trying to reassure him with closeness that everything's okay. You wish you could believe the same.

You can feel the hardness of Dirk's fangs when he kisses you on the cheek and it makes you smile just a little despite everything. It's just so Dirk, that combo of complete gentleness combined with the undeniable ability to wreck your shit. You'd like nothing more than to return the gesture, but you settle for squeezing his hand.

‘AB negative,’ Ampora says, reading the device. 

‘That's inconvenient,’ Pyrope remarks.

‘Why, what does that mean?’ you ask. Even though there's the reassuring nonsense of bureaucracy happening here, you're starting to get really pissed off by the fact that you have no idea what's going on.

‘It's been long enough that Dirk will have developed a ... bias. I take it neither myself or Detective Ampora are smelling appealing to you, Dirk?’

Dirk shakes his head.

‘Not at all,’ you answer. ‘You smell nauseating, actually. No offense.’

‘That's unfortunate,’ Pyrope sighs. She takes off her shades and leans forward so her elbows are resting on her knees, hands clasped together. You feel like you're about to be told not to take drugs, even if all your friends are doing it. ‘It's possible that A or B negative will be acceptable, but they're not exactly common either.’

‘Lucky you have a donor sitting right here then,’ you say. ‘I get and approve of you quarantining him, obviously that's a really _solid_ law you've got going there and I just want him to be safe, but I could go too, right?’ You stare at Pyrope more earnestly than you've looked at anyone since you were trying to get your parents to agree to let you go on a wild goose chase to see if Kubrick hadn't actually destroyed all his sets after all. It hadn't worked then.

She's looking at you sympathetically, which means she's going to say no. You know this, you're certain of this, but you can't seem to stop yourself from looking at her like she's going to fix everything.

‘No. Hell fucking no. That is the stupidest idea I have ever heard come out of your mouth. You’re not doing that.’

‘I'm afraid Dirk's right,’ Pyrope says gently. 

‘You don't want to go in there, kid,’ Ampora says. ‘It's an unfortunate necessity we don't inflict on humans.’

You should give up. You're pretending you’re law-abiding and respectful, never had a non-conformist thought in your whole life, but you can't just let it sit. 

‘Does he even need to go? He's doing really well, we're keeping him safe, he's still the same …’ You can tell this isn't working either and you can't keep it up.

They continue as if you haven't embarrassed yourself and you hate them for that.

‘Ampora will take you through the paperwork, Hal, unless you'd like to nominate a different human,’ Pyrope says. ‘And I'll get you all safe for travelling, Dirk!’

You frown in confusion for a moment, wondering why Dirk doesn't have any say, but then you realise. He's not human anymore. They wouldn't make a dog sign off on their release from a pound. You don't think you've ever been more disgusted with the state of the world and you have to pretend it's all okay. You don't want to let go of Dirk.

‘Right,’ Dirk says. There’s a slight thickness to his voice with his fangs still out, but it’s not that noticeable. If you didn’t know him better, you might think he was relaxed. ‘What exactly does that involve?’

Ampora looks at you expectantly as Pyrope reaches into her bag and you extract your hands before he has to tell you to. You move to the table so you have a surface to write on. 

_Don't ask him about his scars,_ you tell yourself. _Don't even look at his scars._ You wouldn't call Pyrope with the kind of vibe like she might have a couple extra elbows somewhere and all of them are weaponisable _soft_ or _friendly,_ but Ampora kinda gives you _Blade_ vibes.

He lets you read the paperwork rather than hurrying you to sign, which you appreciate. Not that there's an option to alter it, you don't think. Like, you're gonna sign it. But it's nice to feel somewhat in control and less like they're going to steal your organs and say you agreed to it.

Looks like you'll basically be responsible for anything Dirk does. That's a fun thing to agree to. He's not exactly feral, though, so presumably he won't be causing mass destruction of property. You put in your information and Dirk's, sign the first page and then flick it over, sneaking a glance at Dirk while you're not focusing on the legal jargon. (You want to tell him that your love of Legally Blonde might actually be paying off, but you don't think the cops will share your sense of humour.)

‘You'll be able to write to him,’ Ampora says gruffly, catching you looking at Dirk. ‘Though I wouldn't put anything in there you wouldn't want an audience to.’

So he can't take his phone after all. And they'll be reading his mail. This whole thing is sounding less like rehab and more like prison every minute. You're not wild about the look of Dirk in his new cuffs, given the circumstances.

You lean a bit closer to Ampora. ‘He'll be okay, right?’ you ask quietly. 

‘He's the kind that makes it out, from what I've seen,’ Ampora replies. Wow. That's easily going on the list of the least reassuring things anyone has ever said to anyone. You don't know what to do but nod, turning back to the forms so you don't have to respond.

Finally you reach the part of the forms that deals with time. A minimum of two weeks, that's not so bad. He'll be allowed out when he can prove he can control himself under tests detailed ... on another form, fantastic. Of course they don't make this easy. You memorise the form name and keep reading.

‘How's the paperwork going, Dual?’ Pyrope calls over.

Ampora looks over to her with stiffness like he didn't want to be interrupted.

‘It's fine,’ he says. ‘It hasn't been that long since I did this part.’

Pyrope lowers her voice and keeps talking to Dirk. Your eyes still on the paperwork, trying to overhear what she’s saying, but the words you catch are meaningless without context.

‘Stop that,’ Ampora says. ‘Stop _chatting.’_

That’s almost reassuring. Chatting is good, right? Ampora got distracted by Pyrope so you finish up without him pointing to the very clearly marked spots for you to sign. You slide it pointedly towards him.

‘Are we done?’ you ask.

He double checks everything and nods. You get up and move back to Dirk's side the second he does. You rub his back reassuringly and put your arm around his waist before Ampora has put the paper back in his bag.

‘Alright, time to go!’ Pyrope says. ‘Make sure you don't have any items, jewelry perhaps, that you don't want confiscated.’ 

You grip Dirk's waist tighter. Wait, is that it? You don't know what else you were expecting, but you're not ready to let him go. 

‘Can we have a minute?’ you ask.

Pyrope looks at Ampora. Your heart clenches, you don't want it to be dependent on him. But he nods and strides into the hallway. You don't hear the door, so he's staying in the apartment, but it's good enough. Pyrope gives you a tight smile before she follows.

You don't hesitate. You pull Dirk towards you and into a kiss, your hands twisted into his shirt because if you grab his skin you'll hurt him, you need to hold him tight enough to make your fingertips press harshly into your palms even through the fabric. You laugh incredulously when you feel his mouth-guard. It makes sense, fangs and all, but you haven’t kissed someone wearing a retainer in a while and it’s a bit ridiculous to find out he’s wearing one this way.

‘I love you,’ you mumble. It's never been more impossible for you to give yourself the space traditionally used by people speaking. 

‘I love you too,’ he answers. His voice is thick. If he cries, that’s it, you’re only so strong, you can feel your heart aching even at the idea of him crying. You’d end up clinging to his legs like a pre-schooler on their first day, having a proper tantrum ‘So fucking much.’

‘I'd still make a run for it, if you wanted,’ you say, voice so quiet you wouldn't even be confident he caught every word.

He laughs humourlessly and shakes his head. 

‘You already know that I’m not going to let you do that.’

He kisses you on the cheek, then the lips, and again. His cuffs are bulky and strange, interrupting the feeling of him holding onto you that you've gotten used to over the last week. Even with that and the mouth-guard, he's still ... _so_ Dirk. You breathe in his particular Dirk scent in between kisses.

‘I'll write you letters every day, like _The Notebook,’_ you promise. ‘You'll be so sick of hearing from me you won't even mind being away. You won't have time to do anything else but read them, you won't get bored or lonely at all.’

‘You’re so cheesy,’ he laughs sadly. ‘I won’t ever get sick of hearing from you, dumbass. I’ll write back for every letter you send me.’

Your voice is cracking but you don't care. It's been longer than a minute, surely, your sense of time is all messed up by your anxiety, but you can't let him go. You know it'd be better for you to finish up your goodbyes organically than to have him dragged away, but that's such a cruel thing to make the two of you do. You stroke along his jawline, along his cheeks, feeling his face under your thumbs. He tangles his fingers in your hair, squeezing your waist with his other arm. 

‘I’ll see you soon, okay?’

You nod as much as you can with your faces pressed together like this. You're not ready for this to be goodbye, but you can't drag this out forever either and you can't make him be the strong one on top of everything else. You kiss him one last time, clear your throat, and pull back.

You stand and offer your hand to him to help him up as well. Not like he needs the help, but now you're holding hands and that's something. 

‘It might only be a couple of weeks,’ you say. ‘Back before you even know it, and I won't have to figure out where we keep the vacuum.’

You can't quite make yourself start moving towards the hall for a good few seconds. You just stand there, holding his hand like you're waiting to cross a road. But then you walk, because dragging your feet like this isn't helping him.

He laughs nervously, like you haven’t quite pulled off the distraction trick this time.

‘You better figure out where the vacuum is before then,’ he tells you, kissing the back of your hand. ‘I’m not coming home to the floors looking like a petting zoo for dust bunnies.’

Pyrope and Ampora are waiting awkwardly at your doorway. Looks like they gave you as much space as they could, which is surprisingly decent of them. You wish you could hate them, and you definitely do for taking Dirk away, but it'd be more satisfying if they weren't ... people.

‘Ready?’ Pyrope asks.

You don't quite let go of his hand. 

‘If there's anything I can do for him, please tell me,’ you say. ‘If there's visiting hours or if I can send him, I don't know, flowers or something …’ You can't think of anything you could do to help, but you think everyone gets just how desperate and ridiculous you are. Pyrope nods seriously. It's something.

You turn to Dirk and ignore them. It's awkward having an audience, but it'd be worse not to do this. 

‘I love you,’ you murmur. ‘I'll miss you. I'll see you so soon though, you're gonna ace this.’

‘I love you too,’ Dirk says. ‘You bet your ass I am. We’re going to be alright.’

You kiss him one last time. He’s definitely on the same page as you, kissing you deeply despite your audience. You're not going to make him see you cry on top of everything else. This is fine. You’ve made it through fine. He pulls away and you feel your mouth twist miserably without meaning to change expression.

Pyrope gives you both an encouraging smile before picking up Dirk's wrists by the cuffs and doing something to them that makes them stick together with a low, mechanical hum. Ampora pulls a card out of his jacket and hands it to you, making firm eye contact with you.

‘Only use it if you need it,’ he says.

‘Softie,’ Pyrope teases. 

‘I ain't _soft,_ Red, they're good boys. This is what we do.’

Pyrope grins like getting him to speak more than two consecutive words is a victory. You can't concentrate on whatever that means now, so you tuck the card into your jeans and stare at Dirk as they make their way out the door.

You stand in the doorway as they lead him away, watching well after they've disappeared around the corner of the hallway. You know they're not going to come back and return him to you or anything, but it feels wrong to go back inside just yet. Your mind feels strangely blank, like you can't process this much bullshit. It takes until a thump from a neighbouring apartment startles you into awareness again for you to go back inside.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk has been taken away, and Hal has to deal with the fallout of Dirk's "communication".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some background Davekat in this one, just as a heads up.

You sit on the couch and stare at the wall. You should sleep, probably. Eat first? You're not sure, you're struggling to think about anything that isn't Dirk. You wish you could _call_ him or something, just to know what he's going through. Should you have gone to the window and watched the dark street for signs of him leaving?

You feel exhausted, like you've been running on adrenaline for you don't even know how long and now you're finally crashing. You don't want to sleep without him. You don't want to go to your room and have everything look the way it always does. You're just going to sit here until you can process anything other than _Dirk's gone._

You wake up, not that you're entirely sure if you were asleep or just zoned out, to the sound of knocking at the door. With all the curtains carefully down, you're not sure if it's daytime or not. You'd know if it were full noon, this room isn't vampire safe, but you're struggling past that. It doesn't matter though, you need to answer the door before whoever it is knocks it down.

Dave looks entirely too much like his brother for your heart to cope with. It stuns you speechless.

‘Where’s Dirk?’ he asks urgently.

You have the weirdest urge to hug him, just to touch someone Dirk adjacent, but you're not _grieving_ or anything, so you force yourself into something like control.

‘Come in,’ you say. ‘Let's not give the neighbours any more reason to hate me.’

You decide that if you're going to be having this or any conversation, what you badly need is coffee. You lead Dave to the kitchen and put a pot on and make more of a production out of getting mugs than you need to so you don't have to face him and how he’s still looking around your apartment as if Dirk’s going to crawl out from under the coffee table. You don’t want to have to tell him how you got his brother arrested. But only after you fucked him a bunch of times. Not that you'd phrase it like that even at your most self-pitying, but still. 

‘He messaged you, right? He said he was going to.’

‘Yeah,’ he says, a hint of annoyance to his voice. ‘Dumped a goddamn bombshell on my ass in the middle of the night before apparently fucking off completely. Like, I know vampires are nocturnal, but he could have told me when I had a chance to talk to him before he decided to pull a disappearing act over everyone.’

Dave sighs. You can see the tension in him even as you try to distract yourself with the coffee. 

‘Sorry for being pissy. It’s just. You know.’

Yeah, you know. You push coffee towards Dave and take a mouthful of your own. Fuck, you needed this. Dave thanks you automatically, looking like he needs it as much as you feel. 

You wish you knew what Dirk had said to Dave, but you can guess. If Dave's here this early, it was enough to be concerned about but because it’s Dirk it was unlikely to have anywhere near enough detail. You'll pretend like he knows nothing. 

‘We thought we could keep it under wraps. Not from you, but from the system, you know? So we didn't think he was going anywhere until basically right when he messaged you.’ 

‘He still could’ve said something sooner,’ Dave mumbles.

Drinking the coffee is reminding you that you haven't eaten in a while again. Ugh, you really don't want to put in the effort involved in making something. You open the fridge and glare at the fact that you don't have a perfect meal just waiting there for you. Actually, you have yoghurt, that's a start. You pull out the tub and a packet of frozen blueberries and turn to Dave. 

‘Want some? Sorry, it's been a long night and I'm assuming you'll want to talk to someone who is conscious.’

‘Sure. I got up at the ass crack of dawn. I didn’t eat jack shit before trying to break your door down.’

You nod and start pouring yoghurt into two bowls. You don't think you're up to balancing on a stool, so you make a gesture for him to follow you to the table where the chairs have backs you can lean onto without falling off them. You balance your bowl on your forearm so you can bring the whole damn coffee pot with you along with your mug. It needs to stay close.

‘He said you were helping him with it,’ Dave prompts.

‘Yeah, so …’ 

You really wish you knew what Dirk had said. Does Dave know you're a thing? How do you say that? _You know how last time you saw me, I told you that this apartment was a gladiator pit and one of us would die before our tenancy was up? Yeah, now we're in love._ You lean your elbow on the table and scratch at one of your bitemarks self consciously.

‘I don't know what you know, so I'll just pretend like Dirk gave you basically nothing, based on everything I know about him. The chances that he told you a single syllable more than he thought was essential are so low, a guy in a cowboy hat is making advertisements to shift them from his warehouse.’

‘Oh, the dude generalized the hell out of it all,’ Dave confirms. ‘I’m thinking he probably slapped down the bare minimum and called it quits like the vague douchebag he is. The only thing he said that didn’t make me wanna go into cardiac arrest on the spot was that he hasn’t killed anyone.’

You nod, unsurprised.

‘He got bitten on Friday night, came home looking like he'd come right out of _Chainsaw Massacre_ and was being a noble idiot about biting me, so I forced his hand. You know, to save him. And we basically kept having that fight for a couple of days until we just got to a barely functional state where I didn't have to manipulate him, and then …’ _I got him reported,_ ‘we got found out.’

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he murmurs. ‘He’s a goddamn idiot for hanging at bite clubs. What happened for you guys to get caught? Did he go ham on a neighbor or something?’

You grimace at Dave and shake your head. 

‘Yeah, no killing, not even any harming. With dealing with everything we both kinda went off the radar, which I take it isn't unusual for him but it is for me.’

‘You probably aren’t used to it since you live with him, but he pulls some fucking vanishing act out of his ass every once in a while. He usually manages to drop back in before anyone starts wondering if he’s dead though.’

Yeah, not like he can hide from you. He does have quiet periods sometimes though. You try and leave him be when it’s obvious he wants to be left alone, but sometimes admittedly you do poke him until he snaps out of it. Depends on your boredom level, or that’s how you would have phrased it last week. Now you’re wondering if you were repressing exactly why you paid so much attention to your roommates mental state. 

‘Anyway,’ you continue. ‘A friend sent a friend to check on me, who saw Dirk acting like Nosferatu had crawled up his ass in a supremely unfun kind of way. She reported him. I sent an email as if I'd sent it when it first happened so it'd look like we were on the side of the law the whole time.’

 _By the way, I'm in love with him._ Why is this so awkward? It almost felt good to be coupley in front of the cops. It's different when it's someone who knows you, who knows how much shit you've given each other. You don't want to hear him ask if it's real or if it's vampire bullshit. You know it's real.

‘Thanks for, y’know, putting up with this shit instead of straight up turning him in from the beginning,’ Dave says. ‘Quarantine doesn’t bother me as much as Dirk being left alone too long does.’

‘Best case scenario, he's in for two weeks,’ you say instead of accepting his thanks. You really don’t deserve it. ‘He's good at the control thing, no surprises there, he's got a stick up his ass the size of my—’ 

You hate yourself sometimes. Verbal filter, who? You've met Dave roughly a million times, but never as his brother's boyfriend and you are not exactly the best at this. 

‘I think he'll be okay,’ you finish awkwardly, staring at your breakfast instead of making eye contact.

‘Uh,’ Dave says. He takes a gulp of coffee with a gesture so abrupt it reminds you of a guy taking a shot, and immediately chokes on it. 

You consider patting him on the back but decide that physical contact is exactly not what this needs. Eventually he stops coughing and the silence between the two of you where the unspoken details of your relationship with Dirk lingers becomes more pressing. You should just rip the bandaid off and tell him, he's going to have to find out sometime.

‘So, Dirk and I ... have lived together for a while …’ Obviously, Hal, fucking hell. ‘And, uh, we don't generally, like ... get along ... but …’ Okay, no. You're not speaking like this. You don't do "um" and "uh", you say what you mean. ‘Like, I care about him, did before this happened, and the last week, it's been …’

You take a breath and rub your forehead with your thumb and forefinger. You didn't know Dave was coming over, so you didn't prepare for this kind of thing. You usually present so much better than this. 

‘We're seeing each other? Um, formally?’

‘No shit,’ Dave says. ‘Have you looked in the mirror lately? Your neck looks like someone hit it with a brick before letting a whole ass coven of vampires loose on it.’ 

He plays with his yoghurt as you pull at your collar awkwardly and uselessly. It's not going to help matters to pull your shirt up to your ears like a fucking turtle or something, but you're sure thinking about it.

‘Listen, uh, not to be a dick here,’ he continues, ‘but considering everything that’s happened, are you sure that, uh…’ He rubs the back of his neck. ‘Are you sure it’s not just the trippy vampire fuckery talking? Because every time I’ve seen you guys together you’ve been at each other’s throats.’

 _Pun,_ you want to point out. This is the most awkward conversation of your life. You're looking basically anywhere that isn't Dave's face, because you don't want to make it worse, but your coffee isn't making you feel any more comfortable. You probably just need like, at least five more cups. 

‘Yeah, I know what we're like. I don't know if I'd believe it a week ago. I would have pretty proudly insisted that I hated him. It's ... a big turnaround.’ You probably don't need to tell him that you love Dirk now. That's not gonna help your case. ‘But it's not like he's a stranger and this has all come from nowhere. And this last week—fucking hell, more like weekend, I can't believe how quickly this all happened—it's been really ... intense.’

You run over what you said in your mind and realise that didn't sound how you meant. 

‘Emotionally!’ you clarify. Oh fucking hell, could you be more awkward about all this? You give up on pretending this is all normal and put your face on the table and groan.

‘I can’t believe you’re the enemies to lovers trope,’ Dave jokes weakly. God, he’s so clearly Dirk’s brother. ‘I’m not gonna take a massive shit all over you for dating my brother if that’s what you’re thinking. You’re a way better candidate than some of the assholes he’s dug up before, and it’s been months—fuck, maybe nearly a year now—since he stopped seeing English, so it’s been a while since he did anything romantically speaking. Just figured I’d ask about the venom issue just in case because, uh, yeah. Never saw this coming.’

Dave shrugs. 

‘I’ll believe you though. I got a fuckin’ ass load of hell over the same thing with Karkat, so I’m not gonna pull a dick move and say you just like him because he’s putting his weird venom drugs in you.’

It takes you several heavy moments to process what Dave's saying. Dirk mentioned _Rose_ was maybe seeing a vampire, but he didn't say anything about Dave. Surely he knew? And, okay, once you're done processing that, did Dave just ... give his blessing somewhat? You know there are worse options out there, hell, Dirk's been hanging out intentionally getting caught up in worse options, but _still._ It’s _you._

You've been awake far too long to process this, you're starting to get that wired feeling behind your eyes that could easily turn into a headache or worse. Even so, you drink more coffee so that you don't stare at Dave like an asshole. You should probably drink some water, actually. No, you'll remember later, this is much more important. You're just freaking out and trying to problem solve in every direction, and it's not fucking helpful. 

‘Karkat's a vampire,’ you repeat. ‘You ... have experience with this. I have so many questions. I need my laptop.’ You almost stand up, but you're doing it again, you're trying to do everything at once. ‘No, that's insane, it's not like me knowing this stuff now is going to help. Can I email you a list of questions? The Internet has really let me down this time.’ And is that really the priority? Should you be thanking him for not freaking out? You really hate how you didn't have time to prepare for this visit.

‘Yeah, I thought it was common knowledge by now. It’s hella obvious, man. I never formally spread the word because it was popular gossip for a while. Didn’t think it was a big deal either. Dude, uh, maybe you should take it easy. When was the last time you slept?’ Dave shakes his head as he eats a spoonful of yoghurt. ‘Hal, calm the fuck down and just ask me now. In person. I don’t check my email worth a shit anyway.’ He can’t really seem to avoid gesturing with his spoon, but he's not flicking yoghurt anywhere so you don't really care. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Until you kick me out, but I’m game for whatever you throw at me as long as you keep me fueled with coffee.’

You take a deep breath. Fucking hell you miss Dirk. It's not even that he'd know what to do, it's not like you expect that from him, it's just that when he's around, even if you were in this shitty situation where you're socialising and you don't have a goddamn script worth a damn, you'd be so motivated to be the competent one that you'd just deal with it. 

You think you've just about reached your limit for competently dealing with things. You kind of want to crawl into bed and if not sleep for the next two weeks, then at least just stare at the roof and not think. Your thoughts are so fucking scattered. But you're getting better at this, at communicating. And Dave's important now, was friend-shaped before even, so you can do this.

‘I'm really shit at taking it one thought at a time,’ you say, going for honesty, ‘and I think I've run out of problem-solving mojo, and I don't really do the whole romance thing but I've got it really fucking bad, and he's been taken away. I think I'm losing it, just a little.’

‘I can tell,’ Dave says. ‘Look, I get you. I don’t know how the fuck I would handle it if Karkat was taken away. I’d spend every last buck betting on “not well” if that happened. I see him, like ... every day. I can’t imagine that just ... stopping for any length of time.’ He takes a deep breath, like even the thought is too much. ‘And it fucking sucks anyway. I might be pissed at Dirk for not filling me in on any of this sooner, but I’m still worried as hell about him. But he’s Dirk. He’ll be okay. Shit ... Shit happens in quarantine, but he’s one of the most stubborn jackasses I know. He’ll be okay.’

Dave looks down at his hands and starts toying with the hem of his sleeve. 

‘Besides, this is all temporary. He’s in for, what? A few weeks, right? That’ll fly by. In the meantime though, you gotta take a break or something, somehow. I know that’s easier said than done and everything hurts like a bitch right now, but you’re only gonna end up with a totally ungodly headache if you try to be at the top of your game the whole time.’ He bites his lip and his resemblance to Dirk intensifies to an uncomfortable degree. You miss him, you miss him, you miss him. 

You nod. You're not exactly reassured, but it's something approaching good to hear that Dirk is strong enough for this from someone else. It's really hard to pay attention right now. Like, you're listening to your words, but you're also kind of trying to plan your next move, figure out how you want to interrogate Dave, whether you're allowed to take notes. 

‘It’s not, uh, bad to express yourself either. Emotionally.’

You do catch his last nugget of advice. You give him your most sarcastic look.

‘Thanks,’ you say dryly. You press your knuckle just underneath your right eyebrow and catch yourself doing it. You'll get painkillers when Dave's gone and nip this in the bud. 

‘Oh, fuck off. Like you haven’t been super emotionally vulnerable for the whole weekend.’

Your fingers flinch with the urge to tug your collar high up on your neck again, but you know it's useless and _obvious_ besides, so you turn the gesture into a grab for your coffee mug instead. With literally anyone else you would retort with something filthy so they were the one embarrassed, but this is Dirk's _brother._ You wish you didn't feel the need to impress him so badly. This is already complicated enough. Dave smirks at you like he knows he has you trapped and then grimaces as the double-edged nature of his trap hits him. You two are just really bad at this. 

‘Was Karkat already ...? Or were you with him when he turned?’ you ask, changing the subject gracelessly. 

You have a lot more questions, but that one feels the most pressing. You need to know how much Dave knows of what you're going through and you're dying to compare Dirk's experience to someone else's. You know Dirk, and it wouldn't surprise you if he was a vampiric outlier when it comes to just about everything.

‘He was already a vampire when I met him, yeah,’ he says. ‘I didn’t get to see firsthand all the fucked up things vampirism shits out like I assume you have. Karkat’s practically a baby in the vampire world though. I think he was only turned a couple of years before we started talking.’

‘Okay, that narrows the questions down somewhat. So, day-to-day, apart from obvious sunlight and stakes, what else should we be avoiding? It's fucking hard to figure out what's real and what's not online.’

What you really want to ask him is whether this awful aching feeling in your chest is supernatural. You have the feeling that it's not, which is almost worse. Supernatural bullshit sometimes has a cure. Missing someone so bad it hurts doesn't. Not when you can't just storm a government facility and get him back home.

‘Well, the sunlight and stakes are the most dangerous ones, obviously. Except getting a stake to the chest would kill anyone. I don’t know why that’s a thing that’s exclusive to vamps.’

He leans his seat back and drums his fingers against his knee. 

‘Karkat says that garlic tastes like ass now, but I think he probably just never liked garlic in the first place. Oh, and the food thing is bullshit, by the way. They can eat food like anyone else. It’s just not nutritious for them. I think ... It’s silver, right? Yeah, don’t fuck with silver. It gives Karkat these nasty blistery rashes.’

You don't think you own anything silver, so that's easy. Well, it's used in computer parts, but that really doesn't count, you're not likely to take your PC apart and rub the motherboard on Dirk's skin. Not _now,_ anyway. A tiny mental voice notes that you could just get him gold jewelry if the need arose but Jesus Christ, maybe progress to flowers first, Hal.

‘Religious iconography is chill?’ you ask. Not that it's likely to come up, but still something to know. Would it be funny to start wearing a crucifix? You're pretty sure that'd be hilarious.

‘Yeah. I’ve never seen Karkat react badly to it. Man, do you know how bad it would be if that fucked with them too? It’d almost be as much of a pain in the ass as the sun, except religion doesn’t take a break at night. It’s _everywhere.’_

You wrack your brain for any more questions, but you can’t think of any. You’re sure you needed to know more than this. Your brain is stupid when you’re tired.

‘Damn, I really just have to wait,’ you say. You wish there was a plan. Not having anything productive to do sucks ass. Though, you're still going to write to him. ‘Oh, shit, you probably want the address too. We can write him letters.’

‘Fuck, you’re serious?’ Dave says, sitting up with energy. ‘You gotta give me that shit, bro. I’ll pass it on to everyone else and give them enough details to keep your door from nearly getting busted open again.’

You get up and start to rifle through the papers you've got now. You'll scan them into your computer later so you don't risk losing them. You find the address and bring it over to Dave so he can put it into his phone.

He looks like he’s barely able to keep from snatching the paper from you. You take the empty bowls to the kitchen while he does that. It makes you feel somewhat useful, even if you’re just dumping them in the sink to be dealt with later. The sink’s starting to pile up and you _definitely_ can’t blame that on Dirk anymore, not that you really ever could. 

You lean against the bench in the kitchen, taking a moment out of Dave's sight to just get your feelings under control again. You're feeling some bullshit confliction. Because obviously the best case scenario is that so many people write to Dirk that he doesn't feel lonely for a single second, but you're weirdly possessive. You want to be all he needs.

You shake your head and get yourself a glass of water and aspirin. Your headache isn't bad yet, but you're not going to let it get that way. You imagine Dirk stroking through your hair and kissing you on the head and how cared for he's made you feel. Your heart aches with missing him, with how selfishly you wish he was here. You finish the water and go back to the table and Dave, not really sure where to go from here.

‘I can wash those bowls, you know,’ Dave offers. 

You shake your head. Sitting might be a bad idea, you feel like you're about to fall asleep now that you don't have to actively keep yourself standing. 

‘I'm not about to win any awards for hosting, but I'm definitely not letting you do that. My mom would know, somehow.’

‘You think your mom knows what you’ve been up to these past few days too?’

You make a face at Dave's mom question. You didn't, but _now_ you do. Oh fuck, you bet Peta's already told your parents you're practically married after your last conversation. You're going to have to talk to Peta ... Actually, you might pretend otherwise but it might be nice to have their company while Dirk's away. 

You don't even know what to do with yourself now. You guess once Dave's gone you'll sleep and then work and then do whatever the fuck it is that you do with your time. You and Dirk always ran into each other, of course, and usually on a daily basis, but it isn't like you've never gone a stretch of time where your schedules have just missed each other. You think you went three weeks once with only the occasional sound of a door opening or closing letting you know that someone else still lived with you. But somehow you have no idea how to live without him now.

‘Hey, Dave?’ you ask, and you're going to blame the facts that you're tired and feel like your emotions have been scraped raw and he looks like Dirk so you can't help but trust him on what comes out of your mouth next. ‘How ... do people know they're in love?’

Dave visibly freezes up. 

‘Uhhh,’ he says, clearly thrown off guard. ‘Don’t get philosophical with me now, holy fuck.’

You open your mouth to apologise and tell him to forget it, but he holds his hand up, eyebrows drawn together like he’s thinking.

‘I’d say it’s different for everyone, but ... I guess when there’s that one person that you would do anything for, that you trust completely. Someone you can be mushy and cheesy all you want with, but you can still shoot the shit and fuck around with them. When you can’t stand being away from them and you look forward to being with them again, and you’ve got a whole list of things about them that you love. Like messy hair and his eyes and—’ He cuts himself off and sips his coffee awkwardly. His cheeks are red. ‘That’s how it is in my experience anyway.’

You listen, staring at Dave in a way you don't generally do. He's not looking at you, but that's fine. You nod to yourself. It makes sense that the vampire venom could have made you want Dirk more than you've ever wanted anyone, but it's so far from just about the sex. You're not missing him for his body, or not just for that. You love his expressions, the way he describes things, his stubbornness. 

Dave swallows and jerks his head in the direction of the front door. 

‘Do you, uh ... want me out of your hair yet?’

‘Yeah. I mean, you can stay if you really want, but I'm gonna crash. I might message you later though, if I can think of any other vampire shit I need to know.’

‘No problem,’ he says, getting to his feet. ‘I need to get home and back to bed before I risk passing out at the wheel anyway. Feel free to interrogate the hell out of me later.’

You walk him to the door, feeling vaguely troubled but not knowing why. Obviously you're worried about Dirk, but there's something specifically Dave that's got you almost wanting him not to leave, and you don't think it's that you’re lonely even with him in the house. You open the door for him and grab his arm as you figure it out.

‘I tried,’ you say. ‘To keep him safe. I ... I really didn't want it to come to this, I did everything I could. He wouldn't let me hide him once shit went down. He was probably right, but ... I'm sorry.’

It's catching in your throat, but you have to say it. Because if you hadn't smothered Dirk with your hyper-competence, insisted that you could and were going to look after him no matter what, maybe he'd have leaned on Dave instead. You took responsibility for Dave's brother and now he's locked up away from you both.

‘I know,’ Dave says. ‘I know you tried. I appreciate that more than you think. Dirk’s a dumbass though, and he’s stubborn as fuck. I’m not surprised that he didn’t let you hide him. He probably had some kind of self sacrificial bullshit behind it.’ He sighs. ‘You ... don’t need to apologise. I’m upset over all of this, but not because of you. Shit happens. You could have kicked him out on the streets, but you stuck with him and became his personal blood bank. That ... It means a lot.’

Some people might hug, at this point. You let go of his arm and pat it once instead of doing that. You think you might get why other people would hug after a conversation like this, which is some form of personal growth probably, but you're nowhere near comfortable enough to initiate it.

You try to say something, but Dave's unsurprisingly aware of Dirk's personality. You don't need to agree or disagree on Dirk's dumbassery, you don't think there's a safe route there.

‘Thanks for coming,’ you say instead. Generic and not exactly sounding heartfelt with how tired you are. 

‘Kinda forced my way in, but no problem. Thanks for telling me what’s up.’

You wave lamely before closing the door. Suddenly you're so tired you don't even think you're doing to make it to your bedroom.

You stare at Dirk's ajar door, still covered in your passive aggressive print-outs. There's reasons why you want to be there instead of in your bed, you're sure of it. The list is probably unreasonably long. You just have no idea what those reasons are, past the vague but undeniable need to be closer to whatever you can get of Dirk. 

You shouldn't go into his space when he's not home. This is not what good boyfriends with boundaries do. But you just want to pretend that if you fall asleep in his bed, he'll know where to find you. 

The sheets are mussed, pulled up in places and straight up torn in others, but you're not changing them. You'd definitely pass out while putting a pillow case on or something. Instead you climb into them. And then realise that you're wearing jeans. You groan at yourself as you get undressed down to your underwear, not bothering to get out of bed even though that would absolutely be easier.

You press your face into his pillow. It smells like his hair product. You swallow against the impulse to cry just from that and tug the blankets higher over your shoulder. You close your eyes, even though there's too much room in the bed for you, even though it's not right without him pressed up to your back. You don't know why you're so proud that you can't even have a private cry now, but you won't, not in his bed. You just need to sleep.

If you just sleep, and you're so fucking tired of course you're going to sleep, then when you wake up there will be fewer hours until Dirk gets home. 

You hope he isn't alone and uncomfortable. But of course he would be.

Your head is really starting to ache now. Did you end up taking aspirin? You can't remember, you don't want to take too much. Ironically, that would also give you a headache.

You're not getting up anyway, not for anything. You're just going to lie here and sulk about how you nearly fell asleep standing up before and now you're in a bed and it's not happening.

It's probably been hours. Literally hours. You check your watch. Okay, not quite an hour. But that's still fucking ridiculous. You just want to sleep.

You think your dick would cry if you attempted that method of brain shut down. 

This is so fucking frustrating, why can't you sleep?


End file.
